


And Home Will Feel Like Home Again

by UmbraeCalamitas, WhinyWingedWinchester



Series: Vegvisir [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Norse Religion & Lore, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Awesome Frigga (Marvel), BAMF Darcy Lewis, Brothers, Canon Divergence - Thor: The Dark World, Collaboration, Darcy Lewis is the fandom bicycle and I love it, F/M, Frigga (Marvel) Lives, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurts So Good, Jane Foster is a Good Bro, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel)'s Lips Sewn Shut, Loki loves his big brother, Loki's Children - Freeform, Major character death - Freeform, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, References to Norse Religion & Lore, So many tissues, Stan Lee Cameo, Temporary Character Death, Thor (Marvel) Feels, Thor (Marvel) Loves Pop-Tarts, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-08-29 08:23:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 72,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16740490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbraeCalamitas/pseuds/UmbraeCalamitas, https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhinyWingedWinchester/pseuds/WhinyWingedWinchester
Summary: During the attack on the palace, Thor dies protecting his mother from the Kursed's blade. Loki escapes his prison beneath the palace with the sole intent of avenging his brother, his grief almost too deep to wade through. But Thor is still fighting, even in death, and he will not let his brother face this alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Talky:** Surprise! WhinyWingedWinchester and I have sat down and exploded this out over the course of November and we couldn't wait any longer to release it. So here, have a mega-shitload of feels. Like seriously, I think this turned into a contest of who could make the other cry more, don't you think, Trips?
> 
>  **Trips:** The pain-train took off and we lost control of it somewhere along the way. It was who could out-break the other's heart the worst while still managing to fit in sass, snark, and the odd moment of hilarity. But mostly it was a total sob-fest. And shrieking. So much shrieking and incoherent noises.
> 
>  **Talky:** So yeah, there you go. Go out and buy yourself a cart-load of tissues. The soft kind, with the lotion. And prepare for PAIN.
> 
>  **Trips:** Brew some tea, grab your comfort blankie and enjoy!
> 
>  **WARNINGS:** Major character death, grief/mourning, and so much feels.

He kept his back turned away from the entrance to the dungeons. His curiosity demanded to know what had happened, but he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they were relieving him of the  _ wanting _ by appearing to be waiting on their mercy. Even when he heard the familiar footsteps of his mother and realized that she was coming in person, rather than visiting him via a projection.

Still, he didn’t turn to look at her, to watch her come to him. Come, because he could not meet her, because they had locked him away beneath the palace. They’d trapped him like a beast inside a glass cage where the guards could ogle him as though he were nothing more than a sideshow and not someone they had once called  _ son _ . He should never have clung to the hope that it was anything more than a lie.

“Loki.”

The brittle tone in his mother’s voice was nothing more than yet one more ploy. One more demand for his regard. And what exactly did she want of him? That was the truly inspired thing. She and Odin and Thor continued to insist he fall by their demands, and yet what they wanted was never clear. They wanted him to speak the truth, and yet when he did he was accused of lies. They wanted him to believe he was their son, and yet when he finally did allow himself the foolish hope, settled like a carpet of deception beneath his feet, they yanked it away and sent him crashing into an abyss he could never find his footing in. He was left to fall perpetually, until finally madness took him, as it had…

As it so often had. Though perhaps it was not madness but his true nature.

Loki permitted himself a bitter smile. He watched in the reflection of his cage as his mother walked up, her fingers pressing into the palm of her hand. Her steps were hesitant – not the purposeful stride she so often employed as she moved around, always appearing in control. Her masks were even better than his.

“Loki.”

He finally rolled his eyes at her plaintive tone and turned, regarding her with a cool expression. Unaffected. He was only here because he chose to be. He could escape any time he wished. Let them doubt the walls of the cage they had placed him in. Let them wonder why he stayed as their doubt curdled into paranoia. Let their glances at him be ones of fear. If he could not have their respect, if he could not have their love, then he would take their terror as his due. If hate was all he could expect from them with any consistency, then he would  _ earn _ it.

“What could I have possibly done to earn a visit from the All-Mother in person?” he asked imperiously. “Such an  _ honor.” _

Frigga drew herself up straight, like a queen about to address the court, but he did not miss the way her lips parted and her breath seemed to stutter just slightly before she composed herself. “My son, I have grave news.”

His mouth twisted into a sneer at the title and he turned away from her, but she followed, walking around his prison to stand before him again. No privacy at all within these walls. He moved to turn away from her again – a petty reaction that would gain him no ground in the long-run but felt satisfying nonetheless – but she raised a hand.

It wasn’t the press of her fingers against the glass that stilled him but the tremble of them. He paused in turning away and actually looked at her. There was something brittle about her. Something almost like the finest crystal – beautiful and delicate and so likely to shatter at the lightest touch.

His mother had never looked like that. Frigga had trained with the Valkyrie. She was a shieldmaiden, a warrior, a queen as unbendable as a mountain. She had never appeared so breakable.

And yet.

“What news?” Perhaps Thor had chosen to argue Loki’s case  _ yet again _ and Odin had finally heard enough and banished him  _ again _ . Certainly his brother would appreciate that. He would be able to spend time with the mortal woman. Jane Foster. With his own fate sealed and his brother not currently hungering for Jotnar blood, perhaps Thor would not try so hard to return this time. Perhaps he would remain with Jane as her pitifully short mortal life bled away.

Loki clenched his hands together, digging his thumb into his palm as he tried not to think of the agony of loss that was remaining unchanged as your lover’s hair turned to grey and her face cragged with wrinkles and age. He tried not to think of Iðunn’s fruit, so near and so far, and a lonely grave that became three, then more and more, as generations passed and the children of his children’s children forgot his face and his name and the truth of their own blood. He tried not to think of the day he turned away from Midgard and swore to never go back, never, because it hurt too terribly, only to have his not-brother sent there amongst his unknown nieces and nephews of generations past, not as a god, but a mortal. Thor, meant to wrinkle and grey at the speed of a god’s rest, and die. Lost to him not only as a brother, but forever. Forever.

It had been like losing Sigyn all over again, and yet  _ so much worse _ and in the throes of his grief and madness, he had thought to make a clean break of it. He had told Thor that Odin was dead, hoping that his brother would accept that there would be no return for him, that he would find some peace in Midgard, in his mortal life, and stop attempting to come home. Stop his incessant calling to Heimdallr, to their father, to  _ Loki _ , and no longer haunt him with his presence. If he was destined to die, then let him be gone.

But Thor had never known when to quit. Nor had his friends, for that matter. Grief and no small amount of madness had turned to rage and a need to silence the calls of his brother that Loki freely admitted now had probably not come from Thor at all, but from some place within Loki that desperately wished to go to Thor, to go to Midgard, to be with his brother, because for all of his brashness, for all of his callousness and occasional (frequent) stupidity, Thor had never hidden his love for Loki. He had sometimes not understood how his actions could hurt Loki, but he had also always been free with his affections.

Loki had desperately needed that. He had needed to know that something, at least this one thing, would not change.

But then Sif and the Warriors Three had defied Odin’s decree – defied  _ his _ decree – and gone to Midgard to bring Thor back. To bring a  _ mortal _ into Asgard, as though Thor being amongst his still-immortal brethren would keep him from fading. With Odin in the OdinSleep and no knowledge of how long he might remain that way…

It would not be the first time that Odin had slept through an entire mortal lifetime, and Loki could not bear it. He could not bear to watch his brother wither and die, as he had watched his wife and then his children die. He could not do it again.

Better to kill Thor and have him gone. Better to hurt now and then heal, rather than let the pain linger for so long, growing and festering and slowly consuming him until the final loss would not lance the wound but burst it free, spilling out poison and lifeblood both. Better that—

“Thor has moved to Valhalla.”

Loki’s thoughts cut off like a wind dying to stillness.

He drew a slow, steadying breath, pressed his fingers to his hand. “Pardon?”

Frigga took a step closer, tentative (she was never tentative). “Loki… my darling, your brother fell in the battle. A blade… it pierced his heart as he destroyed the Kursed.”

Loki blinked.  _ "You might want to take the stairs to the left."  _ For a moment, cold pain curled like a wounded serpent in his stomach, and then his shoulders straightened. Of course. The guards had dealt with the threat and reported his assistance of the creature. This was meant to be his punishment. My, how disappointed they would be to realize how little he cared for their lies.

He turned away from her, unwilling to look upon her face any longer. He waved a hand dismissively. “And so the favored son is welcomed into the halls of Valhalla. And here I thought it was Jörmungandr who was meant to guide his way.”

There was a guard standing nearby. No doubt here to protect Frigga from the dangerous Jotun. The man appeared revolted by Loki’s mere presence and he sneered at him. Fool. Did they truly believe they could fool him with their tales? He, the LieSmith, Trickster, and Silvertongue?

They would have to do much better than that.

“My son,” Frigga whispered from behind him, and he felt his shoulders stiffen at her tone. Without his consent, his body turned.

She had slid to her knees outside of his cage, her forehead pressed against the glass as the tears overcame her control. They dripped from her chin as her fingertips trembled against the glass. “My son,” she whispered, and he didn’t know if she was addressing him or…

“You lie,” he hissed, the bitter knife of certainty sliding into his own heart. “You’re lying.”

She lifted her head just enough to meet his eyes and her own were stricken with grief. Loki stumbled away from her. “You’re lying!” he yelled.

“It was meant for me,” she told him, her voice barely recognizable around her tears. “Your daughter was meant to greet me today, but Thor took the blade.” She covered her mouth with a hand. “Dear Norns, why did you not warn me?”

Loki had backed up until he hit the opposite wall. He shook his head slowly. No. No, this was a trick. An elaborate, cruel trick. Thor couldn’t be… he was a  _ god, _ for the Norns’ sake. Besides that, he was  _ Thor. _ Being bested by a single blade would be too much a stain on his honor for him to fall to it. Sheer stubbornness would keep the idiot breathing.

But as his mother dissolved into tears, Loki finally allowed himself to recognize the strange rumble of thunder that had shaken the prison, only to cut off abruptly. The murmur of the guards, their solemn faces. The blood on his mother’s dress, dampening the edges of her sleeves. The tears that had been on her face when she arrived. The tears he hadn’t wanted to see. The grief, too well-known to his eyes, that had he tried to hide from.

“Hel, please, tell me they lie,” he whispered. His own tears burned icy cold as they rolled down his cheeks, freezing before they reached his chin. His breath ghosted in front of him in a cloud of mist, and the clear glass walls of his prison ran white with frost.

“Thor, please.” He grabbed the back of the chair, the wood creaking in his grasp. “You don’t get to… you don’t…” He lifted the chair and swung it hard at the wall with a scream.  **_“THOR!_ ** He pulled backed, hefted the chair, and swung again, and again, and again. The chair cracked, then shattered against the force of the strike, until he was holding only the backrest. He flung it all the wall and kicked the table across the prison with a scream of rage.  **_“YOU DON’T GET TO JUST UP AND DIE!”_ ** He brought his fists crashing down on the table, shattering it.  **_“YOU STUPID, USELESS BASTARD!”_ **

He flew around the prison, destroying everything he could get his hands on, ignoring as the wood ripped at his hands, as the scraps sliced his feet open. When he had demolished everything else, he turned to the walls, hammering at the glass with his fists, leaving smears of blood across the ice that distorted everything beyond.

“THOR!” he screamed, beating at the glass. “Thor!” He pressed his forehead against the wall and slid to the floor. “Please…” His tears finally ran freely, dripping from his chin. “Brother, please.”

But no matter his begging, no matter his cries, Thor never came to tell him it had been a lie.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki sits in his cell, forced to listen to the events of Thor's funeral but unable to attend. He offers what he can to send Thor on with his love. Meanwhile, Thor awakens in Niflheim and has a very important conversation with his niece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read and bookmarked and left kudos and comments. You're all wonderful! 
> 
> Warnings for grief/mourning, major character death, funerals, and feels. <3

He could hear Gjallarhorn.

The deep, thrumming echo of Heimdallr’s massive yelling horn vibrated across his skin and made his heart tremble.

All would hear this note. Gjallarhorn was the horn that would reach to all ears in all worlds. Valhalla would hear it and know that Thor was on his way. The sound would reach all nine realms, even Midgard, though the humans would not know what it meant. They were both too long past the age of the Vikings and too young to remember the sound from when it had called before. Loki, of course, hadn’t been alive then, but he knew the tales. They all did.

The myths of the mortals wrote that the horn would call to signal Ragnarök, but the truth was that it was blown to signal to the realms of the dead that a soul was coming to them. Loki had asked once what happened to the realms that did not receive the soul of the dead – did they simply wait until the next call? Heimdallr had told him that the horn spoke to those who presided over those areas and told them where that soul was going. 

His daughter would hear the call of Gjallarhorn and know that Thor was moving on, but not to her realm. Thor had always been destined for Valhalla.

The horn’s called signaled something else, as well. It was the moment when the bowstring would be drawn back and the arrow let fly.

The karve would have been constructed by now, filled with silks upon which Thor would be lain out. His armor would gleam, freshly polished. His weapons would be near at hand to him – the grave goods of a warrior. His prized belongings, trophies no doubt, would be settled around him and the ship pushed out into the waters. They would wait until it was halfway to the edge of the realm before Heimdallr blew Gjallarhorn.

And then… Frigga. It would be Frigga that let the arrow fly.

It might have been him but for Odin’s refusal to let him out, even to see his brother’s soul on to Valhalla.

Drums.

The beat was slow and mourning. People would be singing low, gentle songs of farewell to Thor and greetings to the Lady who took him into her. Even the fearless warriors of Asgard feared Death. Even they, fierce and proud, respected her.

He leaned his head back against the wall where he sat and felt the beat of the drums vibrate through him. He couldn’t hear the singing. Were they telling tales of Thor’s bravery to try and impress Lady Death? She would not be swayed with songs of valor. She knew of men’s bravery, but even the brave quailed before her. Even the strongest fell before her. What good were songs of Thor’s ability to fight against the one being he could never hope to defeat? What good were songs of welcome to a force that did not care whether she was welcome or not?

Would his mother know not to bother with songs of Thor’s deeds? Would she sing?

No… no, she would be silent in her grief, wouldn’t she? Before the kingdom and her subjects, she would remain the fierce mountain that could not be moved, the tall tree that could not be swayed.

Had she been that way for his—

Loki shook his head and closed his eyes to bite back the tears, but they tumbled down his cheeks nonetheless. What did it matter what she had done to mourn his own passing? It had been a lie. A lie that his brother fell for, as he fell for all of Loki’s lies, the fool. Thor, ever-loyal idiot, who managed to attend Loki’s farce of a memorial while Loki could not even bear witness to  _ his _ passing in turn.

He buried his face in his hands as the tears came anew. He did not think they would ever stop now. Surely he could not have so many tears within his body to spend? He must have the whole force of Hvergelmir lurking behind his eyes. Perhaps he would cry two new rivers and wash all of the world away with his tears.

Frigga had asked Odin if he might attend Thor’s funeral, but Odin had forbidden him. Loki had asked for something else instead, but he did not believe that Frigga would be able to convince the All-Father even of that.

His fingers dug into his hair and he rocked forward and back, tugging on the strands. Why? Why had he been so determined to convince Thor that they were not brothers, that Loki did not see him as a brother,  _ love him _ as a brother, know him only and ever as his brother, his big brother, the very best thing in his life? Why had he—

Why?

From above his prison, on the shore, the drums continued to beat. Loud, heavy, they almost sounded like thunder. Almost, but not quite.

Thunder would never sound on Asgard again, and anywhere else it might tremble the air, it would never sound  _ right _ . The God of Thunder had passed on.

_ “Kven skal synge meg _

_ i daudsvevna slynge meg _

_ når eg helvegen går _

_ og dei spora eg trår _

_ er kalde så kalde, så kalde _

_ Eg songane søkte _

_ Eg songane sende _

_ då den djupaste brunni _

_ gav meg dråpar så ramme _

_ av Valfaders pant” _ ****  
** **

He sang the words out with only half a thought, but once he had began, it felt right to continue. He could not hear the songs they sang above, did not know if theirs would carry some part of them along the waters and across the Gjallarbrú. ****  
** **

_ “Alt veit eg Odin _

_ kvar du auge løynde _

_ Kven skal synge meg _

_ i daudsvevna slynge meg _

_ når eg helvegen går _

_ og dei spora eg trår _

_ er kalde så kalde, så kalde” _ ****  
** **

Would they speak of things the Lady would allow to follow Thor? Surely someone must know that the words needed to be worthy, as Thor himself had needed to be worthy. The Lady would not let the Hugr of just anyone travel with Thor as she carried him to Valhalla. ****  
** **

_ “Årle ell i dagars hell _

_ enn veit ravnen om eg fell” _ ****  
** **

If no one else would know the truth of it, know that the words spoken, the thought of Thor, needed to be more than the fleeting love of a fickle people or deeds that would soon enough be forgotten or twisted out of form in tales, then Loki would sing a dirge the Lady might find satisfactory. He did not speak of deeds or strength or power.

With the sound of Gjallarhorn in his ears and grief in his heart, the only words that would come to him were ones of longing. ****  
** **

_ “Når du ved helgrindi står _

_ og når laus deg må rive _

_ skal eg fylgje deg _

_ yver gjallarbrui med min song” _ ****  
** **

Longing to be beside his brother, even just this last time. Longing that Thor know he was there, that he recognize that Loki’s thoughts had followed him to the bridge that barred the way across the river Gjöll. ****  
** **

_ “Du blir laust frå banda som bind deg _

_ Du er løyst frå banda som batt deg” _ ****  
** **

If he must die, though Loki wished it were not so, then at least let him know that Loki loved him.

Loki had never  _ stopped _ loving him, for all that he often wished he had been able. ****  
** **

_ "Deyr fé, _

_ deyja frændr, _

_ deyr sjalfr it sama, _

_ en orðstírr _

_ deyr aldregi, _

_ hveim er sér góðan getr.” _ ****  
** **

Loki closed his eyes tight and thought of his brother and hoped Thor knew… ****  
** **

_ “Deyr fé, _

_ deyja frændr, _

_ deyr sjalfr it sama, _

_ ek veit einn, _

_ at aldrei deyr: _

_ dómr um dauðan hvern.” _ ****  
** **

He hoped his brother knew.

* * *

Thor moved faster still, doing his best to ignore the shouts and the faint crashing sounds of a battle echoing through the halls. His hand gripped Mjolnir tighter to his side as he ran, his footsteps pounding in time with his heartbeat.

Malekith’s cold laughter was ringing in his ears, and the sounds of his mother’s sword being drawn sent a chill down his spine. Thor crashed through the doors, knocking the dark elves guarding it through the wall with a single blow from Mjolnir. A quick check on the Lady Jane, who was safely concealed behind a spell of his mother’s design, and Thor spun back to the clash of metal on metal.

Frigga was skilled, as only one who had trained amongst the Valkyrie could be, but Thor could see that Malekith was losing patience with their dance. When Kurse grabbed her by the throat from behind, he knew then what would happen if he didn’t act.

He called his thunder and his lightning and struck Malekith, knocking the dark elf down and burning his face. Mjolnir was glowing in his hand as he rounded on the one who held his mother, and Thor glimpsed the blade pressing into her back.

It was like watching it happen from the outside, he would think later. There was no hesitation, no doubts. He simply moved. Frigga was shoved harshly aside as the blade was drawn back, and instead of sinking into her spine, it pierced his leathers and his heart, as Mjolnir struck true once more.

There was no pain. There was no time for it. Thor saw only that his mother was safe and closed his eyes. ****  
** **

* * *

There was something echoing. Not in his mind or in his ears… but all around him, inside of his heart. It was sad and lonely. It was guilty and beautiful. Thor couldn’t feel anything - couldn’t feel  _ himself _ , not really - but he could feel the emotions in the song that was carrying him along.  ****  
** **

_ "Deyr fé, _ __  
_ deyja frændr, _ __  
_ deyr sjalfr it sama, _ __  
_ en orðstírr _ __  
_ deyr aldregi, _ __  
__ hveim er sér góðan getr.”   
  
It was green… it was green and it was blue, it was spring and ice, it was sad and it wanted to be heard. Thor wanted to reach out to it, to pull it into his chest and keep it there.    


_ “Deyr fé, _ __  
_ deyja frændr, _ __  
_ deyr sjalfr it sama, _ __  
_ ek veit einn, _ __  
_ at aldrei deyr: _ __  
__ dómr um dauðan hvern.”   


It was… it was Loki. 

Thor opened his eyes and saw a haze of green, shimmering and glittering with diamonds that looked like tears. He reached his fingers out - did he have fingers again? - and tried to touch it, to tell Loki that it was alright to cry, it’s always alright, just ignore Sif and Father and anyone else. 

The green faded to blue and ice, and Thor closed his eyes again as his vision faded to black. 

When he opened them next, there was a blurry but familiar little face frowning at him. He blinked rapidly until his vision cleared, and then offered the face a sheepish grin.

**_“You’re not meant to be here, you know. You’ve gone and put your foot in it.”_ **

Thor groaned and sat up slowly, one hand coming up to rub at his chest. There was nothing there of course, only a phantom ache where the blade had pierced through his heart.

“I am sorry to have ruined your plans, little one,” he said with a laugh, shifting himself around to sit cross-legged, and face her properly. “But honestly, Hel, you cannot hold your favourite Uncle accountable for wanting to save your Amma Frigga, surely.”

Thor looked around him, taking in the grim surrounds of Niflheim. He’d always thought that the golden halls of Valhalla were waiting for him… but perhaps his misdeeds recently had been enough to sway Lady Death’s favor away from him. Perhaps the Valkyries had simply ignored his soul’s flight from Asgard. It caused a burning pain in his chest to think that he’d done something so grievously wrong - something that he couldn’t even  _ remember _ \- that had been enough to slam Valhalla’s gates closed to him. 

Hel sighed and sat back on her haunches and glared, her one eye narrowing at him.  **_“That’s not the point, Uncle. She had seen what was to come, and you’ve gone and ruined it.”_ ** Hel scrunched up her face and shoved her hair out of her face, the skeletal side somehow managing to look just as cross at him as her flesh side.  **_“You have no idea what this will do to Mama, do you?”_ **

Thor rubbed a hand over his face and let his fingers tangle in his hair. “Hel,” he said softly. “Your mother and I have never truly seen eye to eye. He does not see me as his brother, for all that I have always loved him as one, and tried to do my best by him. I know you are aware of what happened on Midgard.”

He waited until she nodded.  **_“There were many mortals sent to my realm that day,”_ ** she whispered.  **_“Too many, and all at the wrong time.”_ ** Her little hands were twisting and untwisting the fabric of her tattered black skirt over and over, until Thor reached out and covered them with one of his own.  **_“Too many, Uncle,”_ ** she whispered, and Thor could hear the pain in her voice.

“Aye, little Hel, too many and too quickly. Your mother had his mind corrupted, and Midgard paid the price. But he was too proud to admit to needing help, or even that he wasn’t in control of himself.” Thor took Hel’s hands in both of his own and squeezed them gently. “I love your mother, as deeply and honestly as I have ever loved anyone. For all his objections and constant need to remind me we are not blood-related, I love him still. But he does not see me as a brother any longer. The truth of his heritage tore the fabric of our relationship, and I cannot see a way to mend it.”

Hel leant forward until her forehead was pressing on their joined hands and sighed.  **_“Be that as it may, Uncle Thor, you cannot stay here.”_ **

“I agree most heartily with that!” Thor grinned down at her bent head. “Do not fret, little niece,” he said gently. “All will be well.”

**_“Aye Uncle,”_ ** her voice was muffled, but Thor could still hear the worry in it. She was so much like Loki that it hurt Thor to see. To have the love and easy affection of his little niece, the touches and embraces that he so adored to give and receive, and yet had to fight to give to his little brother.

So many times he’d reached out to clap a hand on Loki’s shoulder, or swing him in for an embrace after a battle or sparring session had gone well, only to be rebuffed. Loki’s tongue and his way with words could often cut deeper and more true than his blades. But no matter how often Loki had shrugged his hand or arm off, Thor had persevered. He sought his brother out after difficult days, and after days when Thor had been showered with praise from the Aesir of their homeworld and Loki had been shunned just as easily.

He was their dark Prince, the one who didn’t seem to fit in.

But to Thor, he was only his little brother. Blood didn’t matter to him. The only thing that mattered to him was Loki was safe, and as happy as he could help him be. He knew that Loki had spent many long years on Midgard - had married and fathered children there. But he’d stayed away and let Loki have his love, and his family of his own choosing. Even before his true heritage had come to light, Loki had always sought to stand on his own, to define himself as more than an Odinson.

And yet… no matter how long he was gone from Asgard, no matter how vicious and scathing his words were upon his return, he had  _ always _ come back to them. And Thor had been there every time with a smile and a friendly embrace waiting.

**_“Where do you plan to go from here?”_ ** Hel’s quiet voice broke through his musings and Thor shook his head to clear it. Now was not the time to be maudlin.

“There is a - a particular artifact in Odin’s possession,” he began hesitantly. “And I believe that it may be the key to defeating Malekith and containing the Aether within the Lady Jane.” He cupped a hand around Hel’s delicate face and tipped her chin up to look her in the eye. “I need to leave, my little love. I must get to Knowhere. There is a gem there capable of holding the Aether so we might hide it again, and destroy the threat the Dark Elves pose to Asgard.”

Hel stared at him, unblinking and not moving. **_“You speak of the Tesseract,”_ ** she breathed, realisation dawning in her eye.  **_“You… you do not wish to risk my mother’s already compromised mind in the presence of that which has already damaged him so.”_ **

Thor nodded. “Aye, little one. That is indeed my plan. There is nothing else powerful enough in all the realms that could hope to contain the power of the Aether but that which contains the Tesseract. And to obtain that, I first must go to Knowhere.”

**_“That is your goal. To contain the Aether, as you contain the power within the Tesseract,”_ ** Hel paused and frowned.  **_“But… how will you obtain the Tesseract?”_ **

Thor grinned at her and stood up, cracking his back and groaning at the feeling. “My little brother is the God of Mischief,” he winked at her, and Hel rolled her eye with a smile. “You truly think that after this long, I’ve not learnt a trick or two?”

Hel gave a weary sigh and stood up alongside him. “You will owe me for this, Uncle Thor,”she warned him. Thor nodded. **_“I will grant you safe passage through my realm, but I will claim what is owed when_ ** **I** **_feel it is time. Do you find this fair?”_ **

“Verily, little Hel!”

**_“Then we have a deal, Uncle. Follow me, and I will guide you to the path to Knowhere.”_ **

Thor moved as though to follow her, but he paused, and Hel turned around to raise a curious brow at him.  **_“Whatever is the delay, Uncle?”_ **

“I… I need your word, Hel. That if Loki comes to you, in any way, that if he asks you if you have seen or aided me, that you deny it. You mustn’t let him know.”

Hel’s jaw dropped open in shock and she stomped over, leaning up on her tiptoes to glare him in the eyes.  **_“And why would I do that?”_ **

“Because… my death will not grieve him too badly,” Thor said matter-of-factly. “He will grieve for what it  _ means _ but not for  _ me _ . Loki will grieve because our mother will grieve, but he will feel only a momentary regret for my passing.” Thor sighed. “Our misadventure on Midgard when Loki had no control of his mind did little for our already terribly frayed bond.”

Hel was still staring at him, but she’d dropped down from her toes to simply gawk up at him in disbelief. “I know that it may seem odd,” Thor continued, “but he will be better off this way. He will think it better that I am gone so abruptly from his side than to have dragged it out any other way. He will not grieve long, nor terribly. We are… we have changed much and drifted so far since our youth, my little love.”

Hel just shook her head and stepped back.  **_“If that is what you truly believe, Uncle… I will grant you this one promise. You have my word that I will not tell my mother of your continued survival in this realm.”_ **

Hel reached up and carefully touched his cheek, running her fingertips through his beard.  __ **_“I wonder, Uncle. Do you know why you’re here, and not in Valhalla? Do you realise the bond that binds you?”_ ** ****  
** **

“Bond?” Thor frowned at her and sighed. “You’re being cryptic again, little Hel.”

**_It’s part of my un_ ** **dying** **_charm, Uncle Thor.”_ **

Thor chuckled and nodded and took a single step before he paused again. “Hel,” he said slowly. “What about my physical body? It remains still in Asgard...” 

He felt a faint sense of unease at the grin she shot him.  **_“Oh Uncle,” she purred. “We’re in my realm. A body is as easy as this.”_ ** She snapped her fingers at him, and walked away. Thor scurried to follow.

Niflheim was not a place to be left behind in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Loki sings is Helvegen (The Path to Hel), by Wadruna. You can listen to it on Spotify [here](https://open.spotify.com/track/3TEHaGREmft4lec2TrcR8C?si=f6MS052BToq0zJtUxyzTDw) or youtube [here](https://youtu.be/DD65K4VR6Lw).
> 
> The translation of the lyrics are...
> 
> _Who shall sing me,_  
>  Into deathsleep sling me,  
> When I on the path to Hel go,  
> And this track I tread  
> Is cold, so cold, so cold. 
> 
> _I sought the songs,_  
>  I sent the songs.  
> Then the deepest well  
> Gave me tears so harsh  
> From the Slain-father's pledge. 
> 
> _I know everything, Odin,  
>  To whom you gave your eye._
> 
> _Who shall sing me,_  
>  Into deathsleep sling me,  
> Whence I on the path to Hel go,  
> And this track I tread  
> Is cold, so cold, so cold. 
> 
> _Early or in the day's end,  
>  The raven still knows if I fall._
> 
> _Once you stand at the gate to Hel_  
>  And when you have to tear free,  
> I shall follow you  
> Over Gjallarbrú with my song. 
> 
> _You will be free from the bonds that bind you,  
>  You are free from the bonds that bound you!_
> 
> _"Cattle die,_  
>  Friends die,  
> So, too, must you die.  
> Though one thing  
> Never dies;  
> The fair fame one has earned." 
> 
> _"Cattle die,_  
>  Friends die,  
> So, too, must you die.  
> I know one,  
> That never dies;  
> Judgement of a dead man's life." 
> 
>  
> 
> Follow us on tumblr as WhinyWingedWinchester and TalkingToMyselfAgain.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor has things he must do to stop Malekith and save Jane from the Aether, but his plans are quickly altered by new information.

Hel left him at the narrow pathway she said would lead him out into the depths of Knowhere.  _ A hidden pathway _ , she called it.  _ Hidden amongst the tangled roots of Yggdrasil, and shielded from Heimdallr’s all-seeing eyes. _

Thor hadn’t thought about Heimdallr catching sight of him, but a deftly drawn rune on his shoulder had been Hel’s guarantee that he would remain unseen. Thor knew that if Heimdallr saw him now, he would inform his mother and father, who would in turn tell Loki, and all his careful planning would fall apart faster than a honey-cake before Volstagg.

Exiting the pathway was not a pleasant experience. He stumbled out into an empty hall somewhere in the bowels of Knowhere with his head pounding and his ears ringing. Thor braced himself against a wall and pinched his nose firmly, breathing deeply and slowly so as not to vomit on his boots. Hel had warned him that being shoved back into a new physical form would be unpleasant, but he’d not imagined it to feel quite so much like the morning after too much mead.

“That is not something to be repeated,” he grouched and slowly started to make his way his way down the dimly lit hall. It didn’t take him too long to find somewhere more well-lit and full of people. He scanned the small crowd and easily picked his target. An arm slung about the shoulders, some put-on drunken slurring in his ear about finding another drink somewhere - ‘ _ it shall be my joy to drink with you my friend! Allow me to purchase us the finest ale!’  _ \- and Thor managed to drag him off down a darkened corridor.

When he reemerged, his armour and cloak were gone, in their place were the finely tailored space leathers his companion had been wearing. Said companion was tied up and unconscious near the airlock, a note pinned to his underwear stating his many misdeeds. Drunk men were so easily swindled into honesty.

He tugged at the uncomfortably tight fit of the pants, desperate to adjust himself but afraid he may bust the seams open.

“It’s like Stark tailored these!” he bellowed in frustration. The man wore his pants far too tightly, and Thor had always wondered how it was his manhood had not been crushed and how he was able to move as easily as he did. “Stark must clearly use some form of technology in his pants,” Thor decided, and wiggled again, desperately seeking to ease his discomfort. “They are far too constricting!”

With one last, futile tug at his pants, Thor left the safety of the dark corridor and began to steadily ascend through Knowhere. His destination was to see the Collector. The eccentric being had been the one to provide them with the Tesseract’s crystalline canister, and he had hopes that he would be able to provide something to contain the Aether.

Knowhere was simple to navigate. One simply went either down to the mines, or up, to where Taneleer Tivan kept his museum of oddities. Thor went up, drawing the brim of his borrowed hat down further over his eyes to keep his face covered. Though he was not too well-known outside of Asgard and their immediate trade partners, being recognised was a risk he could not take. Knowhere was a busy, noisy and bright place. A safe haven for outlaws and those who had no permanent home. Thor ‘s hand twitched at his side, and he wished for Mjolnir’s comforting weight.

He had nothing though, only the small dagger that his companion had tucked away in his belt that was now adorning Thor’s thigh. He rested a hand on it, the slight weight of it against his muscle offering little comfort. There was little that would ease him now, but it wasn’t safe to call Mjolnir to his hand now.

With a nod and wave to the odd woman standing outside of the Collector’s museum, Thor stepped over the threshold and felt the cold chill of old magic settle into his bones.

Though he’d never been trained in seidr and it’s wielding like Loki - he’d had no natural skill nor patience for it - he could  _ feel _ it still, could recognise when it was being used. And this place was saturated in it. He knew that if he concentrated, he would be able to make out the runes etched into the very metal of the walls and see the veins of it tracing throughout most of Knowhere.

And Thor knew that Loki would be able to see it all,  _ appreciate  _ it all so much more than he could.

He sighed a little and shook his head, shaking thoughts of his little brother clear.

“I seek an audience with Taneleer Tivan, the Collector!”

“And an audience you shall have, Thor Odinson,” a quietly cheerful voice said from the shadows across the room. “There is nothing you could do to hide your true self from  _ me _ .”

Thor watched warily as the Collector stepped forward to meet him, and gave him a short bow of respect. “Taneleer Tivan,” Thor said with a small smile. “I have no other way to begin, than to simply to say what it is that has led me to seek you out in secret.”

Tivan quirked his head at Thor and gestured to two chairs he had set out by a low table, two glasses already sitting there. “Shall we?”

The glass felt oddly fragile in Thor’s hands as he turned it to and fro, examining the fine filigree engraved on it and ignoring the liquor within.

“Why do we not simply begin at the beginning,” Tivan said kindly. “I have heard of your passing, Odinson. Even now, many here mourn your journey to Valhalla’s gates. You are a most respected warrior and Prince. And yet… you have commited a deception so devious that even Loki LieSmith did not see through it. I would have you tell me that tale,” he said and sat back in his seat, glass untouched by his hand as he waited for Thor to begin.

“I have been on Midgard,” Thor said slowly, and Tivan nodded. “And I was captivated by their world, and by one mortal in particular. A woman by the name of Jane Foster. I thought that her soul called to mine,” he sighed and twisted the glass again. “But it did not. She enjoyed my company, and the knowledge that I could give to her, but it was no more than a brief spark between us.”

“I have heard of your time on Midgard,” Tivan said. “But I am not seeing why this is relevant now?”

Thor nodded, and set the glass down. For all that Loki had always said otherwise, he could in fact take a hint… occasionally.

“The Lady Jane has the Aether within her,” he said bluntly, and noticed the way Tivan’s eyes widened and he shifted himself forwards in his seat. “She is dying slowly, even as we sit here now. It is not a force that any mortal can wield, and yet still she fights it.” Thor licked his lips and wished that Loki were with him. His little brother’s way with words was something he’d always envied.

Thor’s way with words was more like his way with Mjolnir. He swung hard and never missed. Or, as Loki would say, he was blunt to the point of rudeness.

“I require a way to contain it, and I have been made aware that you are the one who provided the original for the Tesseract.”

Tivan stiffened noticeably and he snapped his fingers, waving at the servant girl standing by the door to approach them. “Carina,” he smiled up at her, but Thor thought it was almost a grimace. “Be a dear and lock down this room? Master Odinson and I have something rather sensitive to discuss.”

“Of course, Master,” she said softly with a polite nod of her head to Thor. “I shall do so immediately.”

Thor felt the cold sensation in his bones grow stronger until it settled again. “Is what I ask truly so fearsome, Collector?”

Tivan laughed, and Thor watched as he seemed to almost become lost for a moment. It was an unpleasant laugh - and one that Thor had unfortunately heard before from Loki. When he’d been trying to help his little brother to piece back together the fragments of his mind after the mess in New York, Loki had often laughed like Taneleer was doing now. It was a desperate, frightened kind of noise, and hearing it from one of the oldest beings in the universe had Thor on edge.

“You have no idea what it is that the mortal woman truly holds within her,” Tivan said eventually, the laughter dying off as suddenly as it had started. “But it is of no concern. The one who would seek it is watching his plans fall apart now before his eyes.” Tivan leant forward and Thor saw the sparkle of the universe in his eyes. “Thor Odinson,” he said seriously, and Thor swallowed. “You have no idea the  _ waves _ you are sending through the universe acting upon this as you are. The things you are changing… you are  _ rewriting _ the very story of the universe.”

“I… I did not mean to do so?” Thor felt his stomach swoop with nerves. Tivan was old, but Thor was stronger, bolstered as he was by the prayers and dedication of his worshippers on Midgard, and those who held his regards in Valhalla. But Tivan made him nervous in a way he hadn’t felt in  _ decades. _

“I should think not,” Tivan muttered and sat back in his seat. “It matters not. I shall give you what you seek, Thor Odinson.”

He stood and extended a hand. Thor hastened to copy, thrusting his own hand out for Tivan to grasp. “Aye, Collector,” he said gravely. “You have my gratitude.”

Tivan simply nodded and let go of his hand, moving away to the back of his museum, muttering to himself as he opened chests and crates and boxes, snapping at his red-skinned serving girl to fetch him this book or that particular little case to check. Carina scurried about from shelf to shelf with a smile on her face, and Thor sat back with a quiet sigh while they searched. He brought his hands up to press against his tired eyes, and wondered if maybe Loki would be proud of what he’d accomplished here.

He’d managed to use his words and not his fists or hammer, and solved what needed doing. Thor dropped his hands back to his lap, and blinked open his eyes to find Carina’s oddly coloured eyes staring right into his. Thor yelped and jerked backwards, and Tivan tittered from his perch on the floor behind Carina.

“Carina, we’ve spoken about personal space,” he said lightly, and tossed a small velvet box to Thor when she moved away to begin restacking things. “That will draw and contain the Aether. It will not open until it is in the presence of the Aether, Odinson,” Tivan warned him, and Thor immediately moved his fingers from it’s latch.

“I thank you, Taneleer Tivan,” he said and stood to bow politely. Tivan simply nodded, and stayed seated on the floor. “If ever you require a favor of me, I shall strive to assist you.”

Tivan sighed at him, and Thor paused on his way out of the museum. “Come and see me again, soon,” he said quietly. “When the Aether is safely stored, and the threat of the Dark Elves and the Convergence has passed from Asgard and Midgard. You will seek me out again, Thor Odinson. Do not come alone.”

Thor nodded and left the Collector to his oddities and his peculiar assistant. As he strode down the halls of Knowhere, ignoring the pulsating lights and noises coming from every direction, he turned the box over in his hands. It was covered in a dark velvet, the exact colour of which he couldn’t make out, and the latch was a thing of beauty. Small and delicately forged in what Thor recognised as dwarven silver, it had complex and powerful magic inscribed into the very metal itself.

It wasn’t until he was standing back where he’d arrived with the box in his hands that Thor realised he didn’t have a way off Knowhere.

“If you’ll follow me, my Master has provided you with a ship.” Thor jerked back from the wall he’d been running a desperate hand over and stared at Carina. She was patiently standing still, her hands folded one atop the other, and the odd glow from her red skin was the only true light source in the dark little hall.

“I thank you, Carina,” he said gratefully, and followed her through the twisting halls of Knowhere’s lower levels. Carina was silent as they walked, deftly navigating their way into the ports.

“Your ship is this one,” she said, and pointed to a small gold and red ship. Thor’s first thought was that Stark would love it. “It will get you to where you need to go, and quickly. My Master wishes you to know that it is his belief that you will be needed on Midgard. There is no reason now for you to return to Asgard.”

Thor frowned. “But, my intention was to help the Lady Jane, and she is on Asgard.”

“True,” Carina nodded. “But she will not be so for long. My Master told you, Thor Odinson, that you are unravelling and redesigning our universe. This tapestry is new, but already some paths are clear. You will go to Midgard,” her eyes flared a bright golden colour as she spoke, and Thor was reminded of Heimdallr’s power to see all. “You will be there when you are needed. They will call to you,” she said softly, “and you will answer their call. Your deception has forged new bonds.”

Thor sighed and twirled the small box in his hands. “My deception will have given many reason to grieve,” he said eventually. “But any bonds that it has caused that my brother might lean upon in times of need… I would gladly take a hundred blades more.” He glanced up at Carina, her eyes no longer glowing, but old and sad looking. “I thank you and your Master,” Thor stepped forwards and kissed her cheek softly. “Be well, Carina, heart daughter of Tivan.”

The ship was small, but it had easily understood controls, a small space for Thor to sleep and a fully stocked supply room. He plotted his course directly to Midgard, and was pleased to see it would only take him a matter of days.

Once he had taken care of setting the ship’s autopilot to navigate, all he had left were his thoughts. And they turned, as they so often did, to Loki.

He wondered if his brother was doing well. Had his grief on his mother’s behalf passed him already? Thor hoped that his father hadn’t been so cold as to leave Loki locked up and unable to support Frigga at Thor’s funeral. He’d spent so much time convincing Loki that blood didn’t matter at all between them, that he was Loki’s brother, and every time Loki had rebuffed him, and done his best to keep Thor at arm’s length. Watching as Loki revealed to him the truth of his Jotun heritage had been heartbreaking, but Thor had done his best to still be there, to try and force Loki to let him be by his side. For even if his affection, his love, were unwanted - surely it was better than being alone?

But to hear Loki tell of it, he’d always been alone.

Thor had always thought the world of Loki - they’d grown up together, played together, fought together. And yet, Loki was so easily able to discard him, to toss him aside and ignore the pain in Thor’s heart to focus solely on the agony within his own. All he ever wanted was the very best for Loki.

He sighed, and climbed out of the captain’s chair. A nap was starting to sound most wonderful. Thor shed his uncomfortable clothes as he walked, and sat on the edge of the small bed to remove his boots. He flopped back onto the bed and rolled to face the wall. It was such a dreary wall. Thor wondered now if he’d ever get the chance again to show Loki that just because they didn’t share the same blood - they shared the same heartbeat still.

No matter what happened, no matter where they were or who they were fighting for or against - even if it was each other - Thor would never see a monster when he looked at Loki.

He’d forever see his little brother holding out his hand to Thor, a grin stretching across his grubby face as he asked him to share the apple he’d stolen from  Iðunn’s  orchards.

* * *

Sleep didn’t come easily. Thor lay half awake for hours as he tried to sleep. His mind lingered on his brother, on the grief that his death must have caused his mother and the Lady Jane. He thought briefly of Hogun, Fandral, Volstagg and Sif, but his thoughts circled back to Loki and his mother. The Avengers would be saddened, as shield brothers were when one fell in battle, but their grief would be but a passing thing. A Midgardian’s life was such a short thing compared to theirs - a spark that burned so brightly and faded so fast.

But for an Aesir, their grief could last centuries.

And Frigga would grieve him desperately, he knew. She had been the one to keep him focused when she could, though his younger mind had been more drawn to battle and conquest, he’d thought that recently perhaps, he had made her proud with his restraint. With the way he’d grown and began to use his words and not just Mjolnir and his fists.

_ Mjolnir. _

Thor sat upright and grunted as he smacked his head on the low ceiling above his bed.

“Ah, damnit!” Rubbing furiously at the rapidly swelling knot on his forehead, he hurried into the cockpit and brought the ship to a complete stop. Mjolnir would  _ always _ answer his call, no matter where he was. She had the ability to come to him from any distance in a matter of moments. He’d never questioned it, never doubted her.

He only hoped that the bond between his soul and Mjolnir’s hadn’t been so strong as to damage her when he died. Thor raised his hand and focused himself, calling out to the part of him that Mjolnir usually filled… and found it empty.

The flicker and burn of her magic was  _ gone _ . That comforting presence in his soul that he’d just… taken for granted, was gone.

Thor sat down heavily in his seat and hung his head in his hands. He gripped his hair in frustration, and sat back upright with a jolt when his hand on the left side of his head was almost empty and there were heavy braids in his hair. He’d felt the familiar weight of his long hair against his back and shoulders and thought nothing of it. There had been no mirror, nor a reflective surface to examine himself with on Knowhere. He’d not thought to do so, trusting in his neice to simply put him back together again as he had always been.

Setting the ship back on it’s steady course to Midgard took but a moment, and Thor made his way into the ship’s small bathroom. The lights came on as he opened the door, and Thor felt his breath catch in his chest.

Meticulous and deft fingers had woven the delicate braids of burial into the sides of his hair, small blossoms of white clover dotted throughout and gently enchanted to linger. He ran his fingers through the loose ends of his hair and watched as small fragments of bay, mixed with the dark crimson petals of mourning roses fell free. Thor’s hands stilled and he looked carefully at his face. The same face as it had always been stared back at him, but now… it felt as though he were staring at a stranger wearing his face. His fingers sought out the place where his hair was gone on the left side behind his ear, and felt the rough stubble of his shorn scalp beneath his fingertips.

A thick tress was missing, hidden by the other, larger braid that fell from the top of his head to his shoulder, and Thor wondered where it had gone. Had it perhaps been burnt or matted beyond repair during his last stand?

He brought a hand to rub absently at the phantom pain in his chest again and stilled it when another thought occurred to him. Hastily stripping away the last of the ill-fitting clothing he’d stolen from the drunken criminal, Thor touched his bare chest gently and stared in shock.

Across his chest, and right above his heart, was a thick knot of white scar tissue in the exact shape and size of Kurse’s blade. It didn’t hurt him, but Thor still prodded at it gently. He felt… strange. It took a great deal to leave a scar or permanent disfigurement upon an Aesir. His father’s eye was an example - it had taken the Jotun King’s blade to ensure it’s permanent removal.

And now… he had such a scar over his heart. It felt like a target for all enemies now to see. He had been slain once.

He could easily be again. Thor pressed his palm flat over the scar and willed it to disappear, gripping tightly to the small sink with his other hand. The scar was rough under his hand, the edges a stark contrast to the smooth feeling of the skin around it. It felt like it was burning him, it was an ember in his chest. A visible sign of his weakness.

Thor shook his head harshly, ignoring the small scattering of petals and flowers that fell from his braided hair, and stumbled back from the sink. He stripped carelessly, tossing the last of his clothes aside and threw himself into the shower stall. A twist of his hand had scalding hot water pelting down on his head and back and Thor let himself slip to the floor of the stall, hunched over and trembling.

For the first time in a very long time, he was  _ afraid _ .

And he was  _ alone _ .

Loki would be comforting his mother and Jane, Odin would be deep in his cups or the OdinSleep. The Warriors Three and Sif would grieve him and move on, as was the warrior’s way. The Avengers would miss him briefly, and replace him just as quickly.

Who was there to truly mourn Thor aside from his mother? Had he left so small an impact upon the Universe?

The water burnt trails down his back, and the small fragments of flowers and bay from his hair swirled about his feet before it disappeared down the drain. Thor let his head fall forward onto his knees and hunched over as small as he could.

Norns, but he would give  _ anything _ to hear Loki’s scathing tones telling him to pull himself together.

_ ‘Now is not the time for such dramatics, Thor, honestly. And you call yourself a warrior?’ _

A deep breath, and another, and Thor let his head tip back, the burning water washing away the shameful traces of his tears. Blindly flinging a hand up to turn it off, Thor forced himself to his feet.

_ ‘Really, Thor. This nonsense helps no one. Put your clothes on and get it together. Are you a man or a mouse?’ _

“Do shut up, Loki,” Thor muttered. He didn’t bother to dry himself off, simply ambled naked from the bathroom to his bedspace and fell into immediate and blessed unconsciousness as soon as he hit the mattress.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frigga brings her youngest son a final gift from his brother, and then sends someone with another.

He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep until the hand on his shoulder had him blinking open sore eyes. Loki looked up to see his mother crouched before him, her face pale in grief.

“Mother?”

Frigga smiled at him sadly and Loki realized why a moment later.

It occurred to him then that she had said that it was  _ her  _ death that was supposed to occur the day before. That the blade that pierced Thor’s heart had been meant for her own. If things had gone that way, as the Norns had shown her, then the last thing she would have heard from him was that she was not his mother.

Loki opened his mouth to tell her that he’d been lying, but her fingertips pressed against his lips. “I know, darling.” He felt tears flush his eyes again, filled with regret and shame. “I know.”

He leaned forward and hugged her and she wrapped her arms around him in turn. For a long moment, they simply held each other in their grief.

Finally, Frigga loosened her hold and pulled back. “I cannot linger long, my darling.” She held her hand out to him and his breath caught. “But I was able to bring what you asked for.”

“Odin let you?”

“I did not bother to ask. Your brother would have wanted you to have it.”

When Odin had forbidden him from attending Thor’s funeral, Frigga had brought him the news personally, as she had the news of Thor’s death. She hadn’t agreed - that had been very clear - but Odin was king and for all that he often took her counsel, Loki was his prisoner now, not his son. That had been made very clear during the so-called trial Loki had been put through. He had not truly expected to be granted leave to see Thor off, though he had hoped to be proven wrong. And when he had asked for a lock of hair, he had expected to be denied that, too.

Apparently Frigga had decided to beg forgiveness rather than ask permission.

It was a thick lock of hair, as golden as Thor’s hair ever was, and it must have been cut from close to his scalp, for it was quite long. Loki’s fingers quivered over the tress she held out to him and he found he could not bring himself to touch it. It would make it too final, to take a severed strand of Thor’s hair in his hand. Better to wait, to put it off as long as possible.

What was he waiting for, he wondered? Perhaps he was just giving the Norns the time they needed to see their mistake and take it back.

He settled his hands in his lap. “How did you get it without Odin knowing?”

Frigga’s smile was filled with sorrow and understanding, but she did not press him. “I was the one who prepared him. I washed him and combed out his hair.” Loki closed his eyes as grief welled up anew. He should have been there for that. For his brother. He should have… “I plaited his hair with the burial braids, and I took this lock from behind his left ear.” She ran her fingers lovingly over the lock in her hands. “Is that where you would like it?”

Loki raised his eyes from the braid to look at her. “I’m sorry?”

Her smile was almost amused but tinged with grief. “You are braiding it into yours?”

Of course she would know. Loki ducked his head and nodded.

It wasn’t really done on Asgard. There was power in having a piece of someone else. A single strand of hair could be used by a knowledgeable enough user of seidr to take control of someone, or take their life entirely. Among a people who rejected the usage of seidr in the hands of anyone save for women, who were meant for such work and not equipped for the battlefield in either mind or skill, who considered the male users of such talents to be among the level of beasts, lesser and dangerous both, giving a piece of yourself away to another was the equivalent of handing over your life.

It was a practice he had learned of on Vanaheim. And really, thinking about it, it made sense that his mother would know of it. She had been born and raised on Vanaheim. Had been a princess who Odin took as his wife - a warbride, the foolish and daring whispered, when they thought no one could hear.

Loki had traveled far in his wanderings along the branches of Yggdrasil and he had spent some time among the Vanir. During one of his such travels, he had arrived during a funeral, as the pyre was being built for a man who died while out hunting. Loki had been seen before he could retreat and leave them to their mourning, and the Vanir were not a people who mourned quietly and alone. Their grief was shared, even with strangers, as their lives were lived among the others.

He had found himself sitting amongst the children, who had been gathered together. They had moved closer around him once he had settled down and he ended up having a number of them leaning against him, one of the younger ones sitting in his lap. One of the older girls had been the daughter of the man who had died and she had held onto his hand in a fierce, shaking grip as her father was laid upon the pyre.

It was after the pyre was lit that she had pulled her hand away and he had watched as she braided strands of her father’s dark hair into her own. She must have caught his curious look, for she quietly explained it as she wove the strands together.

The dead would move on to Niflheim or Valhalla or Fólkvangr - wherever passage had been cleared for them - and the fires of the pyre would guide them along. A part of them remained with those left behind, however, as their memory remained. A single person was capable of affecting everyone within the community, but those who were most affected by their presence and the loss of it were permitted to keep a piece of them without risking their soul wandering aimlessly, unable to move on.

She would braid his hairs into hers, to keep a part of him with her always, as her mother and her siblings and her uncles would do, as well. Some of the other hunters, who had known him well and traveled with him often, would braid a few thin strands into their own hair.

Each style of braiding had a different meaning, and it was a braid of mourning and love that she had plaited with his hair, so similar in color to her own.

Loki had never forgotten that. It had been centuries since that day. The young girl who had held his hand as her father’s pyre was lit had grown and married. She had three children of her own now and a face filled with laugh lines. The braid, however, still hung in her hair, the strands of her father’s hair entwined forever with hers. He’d never forgotten her lesson. He was glad to know it now.  An entwined braid for a loss that never quite stopped hurting, for a love that never ended, despite the distance.

“Yes,” he told his mother quietly, unable to look at her. “On the left.” The left side, so it would hang over his heart. He swallowed and reached out his hand for the braid, but Frigga pulled it away slightly.

“Let me, Loki.” She reached her free hand up and ran her fingers through his hair. “Let me do it.”

Unable to speak, he only nodded.

She drew a comb through his hair, loosening the  tangles and fixing the disaster it had become during the destruction of his cell. Her fingers parted the strands of his hair just behind his left ear. Loki closed his eyes and allowed himself to envision, just for a moment, that he was a child again as his mother brushed his hair. Why could things not be simple again as they were then? Why did the truth of what he was have to drive him to the brink of madness? Why did it take the loss of his brother to show him that he should not have bothered with all of the rest of it, with Odin’s motives, with his blood, the color of his skin beneath the illusion of this face? His brother had loved him. He should have known that Thor’s loyalty would not have allowed his brother to turn his bloodlust onto Loki. Why had he so deeply feared that Thor would suddenly see him as nothing more than a jotun that needed to be culled?

Because that had always been the fear, he knew. His brother had been everything to him growing up. Loki hadn’t had many friends. He hadn’t fit with the image of a proper man in Asgard’s standards and even Thor’s friends had been  _ Thor’s _ friends. Loki had been the tag-a-long only truly wanted by Thor, and sometimes the knowledge of that, the irritated glances of the others when they thought he couldn’t see, had him retreating. He knew it hurt Thor when he abandoned him for his own company but he couldn’t bring himself to apologize or stay when that need to escape came. When the need to run had him walking the branches of Yggdrasil, taking to paths that even Heimdallr was blind to. It made it easier, sometimes, to think that he was on his own by choice. It meant that he could do it, if he needed to. When Thor finally saw what his friends did and understood that Loki was a burden and finally turned away from him, it wouldn’t hurt so much if Loki prepared, if he was ready for it.

It was clear now he never could have been ready for it.

He swiped at the tears on his face with a frustrated hand. Would he never stop crying?

The cool brush of his mother’s seidr against his skin offered him a distraction and he turned his attention to the soft lines of her golden magic. He traced them with his own and felt as her seidr entwined with the braid, protecting the strands from harm or fraying, making so it would stand the test of time. Even if Loki managed to live as long as Mimir the Wise, the braid would stay. It would still be in place when he was placed upon his own pyre.

Frigga finished the braid and slid something onto the end of it to lock it into place. Loki only had a few beads of his own and this one did not feel like those, formed as they were from wood and his own seidr. This bead thrummed with some other magic that was familiar.

It wasn’t until he reached up his hand and fingered the bead that he recognized the magic within it and felt his breath catch. The crackle of lightning danced along his fingertips, sparking sharply, and he looked at his mother in question.

“When Thor’s ship caught light, Mjolnir shattered.” Her smile trembled and she reached out to trail her fingers down the braid. “Most of her turned to dust, but this piece was whole.”

It was circular, with a hole through it where Frigga had drawn his braid, and it only took Loki a moment to realize what part of the hammer it was from. The very base of the handle, where the leather strap was drawn through. Why it had remained whole when the rest of the hammer had shattered, he did not know, but he was grateful. A piece of Thor and a piece of the weapon that Loki himself had given to his brother…

The Norns could be cruel and kind both.

Frigga pressed a kiss to his temple. “I must return to the feast, my darling.” Fingers ran through his hair, pressing back the locks on the side without the braid. “I will send someone down with a goblet of wine for you.”

Loki shook his head. “Odin will not let you.” The drinking of wine after the burning of the pyre was to honor the dead and to pass on inheritance. In this case, the title of crown prince would pass to Loki if he drank wine from one of the ceremonial mourning goblets.

“I am past caring for the opinions of my husband.” She pressed her hand to Loki’s cheek. “I love you, my darling. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes.” He should never had doubted it.

“And I trust you.” He didn’t know what to say to that, but she apparently didn’t expect anything. She pressed a kiss to his forehead and stood. He rose with her and she sent him a smile that held more secrets than he could ever hope to know. He watched her leave and only when she was out of sight did he lower himself back to the floor. He leaned against the wall of his prison and trailed his fingers down the braid she had woven into his hair, following the path of it.

His hair had always been finer than Thor’s. As he trailed his fingertips down the braid, he could feel the pattern woven into it in the shift from his hair to Thor’s coarser locks. After he had witnessed the braiding ritual in Vanaheim, he had done his own research into different braiding styles. Frigga had braiding his and Thor’s hair into a style he recognized well.

Loss and a deep love that never faded. More than that, however, the style of the braid was done so that the differing colored strands twisted about one another, as their lives had twisted about one another, following the same path until they bled together to show that they traveled yet the same way, but were no longer bound. Still, Loki walked with Thor.  

Wherever Thor was, Loki’s thoughts would always walk with him. 

* * *

There was no greater grief for a mother, than that of outliving her child. 

Frigga stood still, her expression calm and her posture stiff, but her eyes were burning not only with the force of holding back her tears but also from the heat of the lit arrow in her grasp. There was only a few feet more… 

_ There.  _ Frigga braced her feet and drew the bowstring back. 

Gjallarhorn’s mournful sound rang out, and her arrow flew true. She watched the small flame as it flickered and danced in the sky before momentarily disappearing from view. There was an expectant silence in the crowd before the  _ whoosh _ of oil soaked wood catching alight echoed back to them. 

She watched with burning dry eyes as the karve burnt, ashes and burning debris flying up into the air. She could hear the quiet sobs of the mortal woman at her side, but her own grief and guilt froze her in place. 

She was alone. 

Odin stood as a statue beside her, face blank, his back straight and proud.  And her youngest, her sweet raven, was locked in a cell for a crime he’d committed under duress and the force of a Stone. 

But Frigga was strong. She was a shieldmaiden, an honorary Valkyrie, and this would not defeat her. She moved with the crowd back into the great feasting halls. She listened as Thor’s friends - the Warrior’s Three - extolled his battle prowess and greatness, as Sif wept and lamented the loss of her ‘true heart’, and she carefully watched the face of Thor’s mortal lover. 

She seemed… angry. Frigga understood that emotion well. So she took a goblet of ceremonial wine from the Royal table and swiftly made her way to Jane’s side. 

“If you take this, and head directly down the main stairs,” she said softly, pressing the goblet into Jane’s hands, “and turn to the right, you will find Loki’s cell. Give him that. Take him to Midgard, and save your planet, Lady Foster.” She looked the young woman in the eyes and gave her a sad little smile. The best she could manage. “I cannot, for I will be missed. But you,” she swept a hand around them, “No-one will notice the mortal leaving.” 

She stepped closer still and wrapped her arms around Jane’s thin shoulders, whispering in her ear as she pulled away. “Tell Loki to avenge his brother, slay Malekith and save your realm.” 

Jane kissed her cheek gently and disappeared in a swirl of Asgardian skirts. 

And Frigga moved back into the crowd who had claimed to know her son so well. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freed from his prison, Loki has something he must do before he leaves for Midgard.

His eyes stared without seeing, his fingers running down the alternating strands of his and Thor’s hair, twisting together and in and out of each other’s lives. There was a place where his own hair seemed to disappear, a missing loop in the design, only he knew it to have been deliberate. There had been a time, a few centuries, when he had lived on Midgard, married to his love and devoted to his children. A few hundred years during which he had seen nothing of his brother but the thunderstorms that shook the sky.

“What does it mean?”

Loki’s hand dropped sharply from his mourning braid as he lifted his head, his expression schooling into something blank as he met her gaze.

Jane Foster.

He’d had no chance to see the woman that had caught his brother’s heart after he had been dragged back to Asgard, but he had looked in on her during Thor’s banishment to Midgard. She was a formidable woman. Although she appeared demure, she had a backbone of steel. He knew that well from watching her, and for the fact that she was here.

He caught sight of the goblet in her hands.

Why had his mother not simply sent a servant? Or a guard?

“Should you not be enduring the festivities?” He smiled sharply at her.

To her credit, she didn’t rise to the bait, merely watched him for a moment before answering. “Your brother spoke of you often while he was on Midgard.”

Loki felt his grin fade. Of course he had. Thor… Thor had always spoken of him, told tales of him. His brother’s love of battle tales was well-known and he adored telling people of Loki’s besting of others with nothing more than words. They had always been Loki’s greatest strength. What need did he have for a hammer like Mjolnir when his tongue was sharper than any blade?

It was Thor who coined the name Silvertongue.  _ “For your tongue is the king of all daggers, brother.” _

Jane looked at the guard who stood outside his cell. “Open the door, please.”

The guard looked flummoxed at being addressed by a mere mortal. “The king--”

“I was sent by the All-Mother,” Jane interrupted him with a tone as commanding as any born princess’. “Do you really want me to go back to her and tell her she’ll have to come herself when she is meant to be honoring her son?”

Loki struggled not to laugh as the guard hurried to open the door as though Frigga might swoop down upon him at any moment. But then Jane was standing before him, holding the goblet out to him, and he could smell the tart currant wine that darkened the inside of the goblet. The cloves that had been brewed into the wine added a spiciness to the air that made him feel as though he were in the Great Hall, sitting beside Thor and listening to him tell yet another tale of battle to rapt listeners, his arms gesticulating wildly as he got deeper into his cups.

He took the goblet into his hands as he rose to his feet, and he could hear the crash of the goblet against the table, Thor shouting boisterously in cheer.  _ “Are you finished with your first cup yet, Loki? Come brother, drink your fill tonight, for we are celebrating!” _

The pad of his thumb traced over the engravings in the ceremonial goblet as he stared into the dark red liquid. “Another,” he whispered, and watched the wine ripple beneath his breath.

If he drank from the goblet, Thor’s title of crown prince would move to him. Odin wouldn’t be able to deny it once the wine had passed his lips. The goblets were not made by the hands of the Aesir. They had been created by powers greater still, and the magic of their world would follow the will of the wine, regardless of one king’s thoughts on the matter.

Loki thought about the throne of the All-Father, hard stone and colder than Jötunheimr. He thought of the loneliness of sitting on the throne in a world without his brother.

He upturned the goblet and spilled the wine to the floor, ignoring the startled inhale of breath he heard from just outside the cell. He stared at the puddle of wine like a bloodstain on the floor, then turned away, holding the goblet out to Jane. “Give it back to my mother. Tell her…” He huffed. “Tell her whatever you like.”

Jane took the cup from him but didn’t move. “I’m afraid we’ll have to drop it off to a servant along the way, Loki.”

Loki’s head lifted and he ran her words over in his mind again before turning to look at her. “I beg your pardon?”

She turned and stepped out of the cell, likely to keep the guard from locking her in, and grabbed the edge of the door as she turned to look at him. “We are leaving. You have a brother to avenge.”

Loki stared at her for a moment, completely taken aback. He’d known she had a spine of steel, but this was…

He schooled his expression and straightened to his full height. “So I do,” he said. He stepped to the edge of the cell, then glanced at the guard.

The man who stood there stared back at him for a moment, then bent over his fist in a bow. “My prince.” He turned away, putting his back to them so he couldn’t see them.

Loki stepped out of the cell and took great pleasure in closing the door with him on the other side of it. He hesitated a moment, then waved his hand and called forth an illusion that made it appear as though he was still in the cell, leaning against the wall, asleep. If anyone walked into the cell, it would disperse, but it should hold for a while, considering how often he received visitors.

“Do you need anything before we go?”

“Yes, but it will be easier for me to travel alone.” He saw the fire light in her eyes in readiness to fight. “And you will travel more easily if you are not required to slink through the shadows at my side. I will meet you outside the doors to the palace.”

He stepped sideways, willing the blazing green chill of his seidr to form a doorway, and then he was walking along the twisting, gnarled branches of the tree that grew the worlds like fruit. The thicker pathways allowed him to walk between the worlds, but like the other realms, Asgard itself was still settled amidst a nest of smaller branches. One could walk them if they had the skill and dexterity to do so, and Loki had been traveling along their paths for over a millennium now. They fed power into Asgard, just as they did to the other realms, though some of the other races had different names for them. Midgard called them leylines.

His seidr opened another doorway through the planes and Loki stepped out into his room. The doorway sealed behind him and he took a moment to look around. Everything was just as he had left it. His books were still dominating the room, filling the bookshelves and spilling over onto the desk. A piece of parchment was still open on his desk, a letter to an acquaintance on Vanaheim half-written. He’d meant to finish it after Thor’s coronation failed and Odin realized his mistake, and then things had gone so far out of hand…

He read through the lines he had written but he didn’t remember now what his purpose for the letter had been. He turned away from the desk and went to the armoire on the other side of the room. Opening it revealed his leathers and the horned helmet he favored.

Malekith’s ultimate destination would be Midgard. As the central world along the branches of Yggdrasil, it would be the keystone of the Convergence. It didn’t seem a wise idea to wear his helmet on a realm he had recently tried to conquer. The Midgardians would not care that his mind had not been his own, just as Odin had not cared. Although, to be fair, Midgard had more of a right to hate him, as far as he was concerned.

But still, it would not do to arrive on the youngest realm as the person he had been before, even if only in appearance.

That meant that his armor needed to change.

A shift in color was easy for his seidr to manage. It was nothing more than an alteration of light. He had cast illusions far more complicated and long-lasting than this. It would hold well enough until after he had put a blade through Malekith and avenged his brother’s death. After that… he didn’t know what he would do after that. Returning to Asgard seemed a foolish decision when it was likely he would be relegated to the cage yet again. Perhaps he would spend some years again on Midgard and help to fix the damage he had wrought whilst under Thanos’ thrall.

But for now, he would keep the gold of the chest plate and the arm guards. He thought about changing the leathers to black, but he had always favored darker greens and the black would not be too much of a difference. No, he needed something else.

His eyes fell on his hand where he had it splayed across the leathers. He pulled it back and looked at it. He remembered when everything had changed. On Jötunheimr, when…

He focused on the skin of his forearm and watched as the blue overtook it. Cold wafted from his flesh, visible in the air and bringing with it a chill breeze in the way ice always did. He studied the blue of his hand. He had never noticed before, but his skin was almost the same shade as Thor’s eyes.

It seemed even more appropriate then, that he shift the colors of his armor to blue. For the truth of his heritage and for his brother. Not all of it, though. His fingers traced over the inside of his cloak and he let his seidr dance blue about his fingertips, shifting the way the light bled from his armor.

The dark green changed to the smokey sky-blue of his jotun form across the leathers and the outside of the cape. The interior, however, turned the same crimson shade that Thor had always favored, both sides edged with a darker blue. He kept the armor gold, but the helmet would have to change. He could not wear the horns as he had before.

He picked the helmet up and stared into the empty area where his face would sit. His arm shifted back to the pale appearance he favored as he studied the horns.

Odin’s helmet bore the wings of a raven, like his familiars, Hugin and Munin. Thor never told people what the wings on his helmet represented, but Loki knew from when they were children that they were the wings of a pegasus. Thor had always wanted to be a Valkyrie. His lips quirked up into a sad smile.

Why he had favored horns, he could not say. Perhaps some part of him that he had never acknowledged had known that he had not been born of Asgard. Certainly he had never fit in here, and the images of the jotun in books always had horns. Perhaps he had been trying to tell himself the truth before it came out in a manner he could not bear, and he had never been ready to listen.

Well, he knew now, so there was no more use for this reference to his true heritage. He had designed his helmet when he was young, anyway, as Thor had. He was a different person now than he had been then. It was time for change.

His seidr twisted through the metal. This would take more of his energy because he was actually reshaping the metal, but he could not go into battle without appropriate armor (if he survived, Týr would murder him, and his mother would help). He kept the basic shape of the helm, the main body of it remaining gold, but the horns twisted backward and the aurum color bled from them, burning beneath his seidr until they gleamed as white as bleached bone, and then darkened as though his very gaze scorched the metal.

When he was finished, he studied the new helmet with a critical eye. It was similar to Odin’s and Thor’s for the wings that sat along the sides, the feathers reaching over the crest of the helm and behind it, ashy brown in color against the gold of the helm, but for the spot of white at their center.

He had always been likened to a mockingbird in his youth, for his ability to shapeshift and the tricks he played on others. People often meant it to be cruel, but Loki had embraced it. It had been a large part of who he was. So it seemed only fitting that he embrace it here, as well.

He set the helmet down on his bed and turned to pulling his armor on. Malekith would be moving and if Loki wanted to keep the upper hand on his brother’s murderer, then he dare not linger.

He dressed in his leathers and put his golden armor on over them, before swinging the cape over his shoulders. As he picked up his helmet from the bed, he met his own green eyes in the mirror.

The armor sat upon him as it always had, but the blue looked so different that he almost thought he had shifted into his jotun form. The gold of his armor stood out against the red of his cloak’s underside. The thing that caught his eyes most, however, was the braid that hung just behind his ear.

Against the dark of his hair, Thor’s golden locks were easily discernible, and the silver ring of Mjolnir shone like a star at its base.

Looking at himself, he felt somehow… more  _ himself _ than he ever had before.

He didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but perhaps it would help as he went after Malekith and saw justice done.

He slid the helmet on his head and looked at himself. The wings on his helmet shone white and burnt gold against the gleam of his helmet. He sheathed his daggers and turned away from the mirror, stepping easily into the portal that his seidr summoned and out of the world. A moment later, to the observer, he was stepping out of nowhere and into his mother’s gardens.

They were presently empty. Frigga would be in the Great Hall with her people, drinking to Thor’s life and his days to come in Valhalla. These gardens were hers alone, with only Thor and Loki ever spending much time within them. They had been built for her to remind her of Vanaheim, whose people enjoyed the beauty of the wild forests of the world and whose cities were almost as green.

He moved along the path and bent down to study the plants. He did not have to look long. The bright violet of the plant he was seeking stood out among the reds and golds.

Tufted Vetch, it was called. Loki severed a small flower from the large branch. He spun it in his fingers for a moment, admiring the dangling purple petals. Had he gone to Thor’s funeral, he would have been able to choose a flower to place in the ship with Thor. He had not even thought to ask Frigga what she placed with him, had not even thought to tell her that if she could place one for him, then it would be vetch.

_ I cling to you,  _ it meant.

_ I miss you,  _ he thought.  _ Brother. Do you hear? Do you know? _

No answer would come to him now, he knew that. For all of his knowledge of Yggdrasil and his ability to walk the pathways, the realm of the dead was not a place that was safe for him to visit so long as Odin sat upon Hliðskjálf and he would never be permitted to set foot in Valhalla.

He slid the small flower’s stem through the shard of Mjolnir, letting the purple petals hang from the end of his braid. If he could not tell Thor himself, then let the world see what words he was incapable of passing on to his brother. Perhaps, whenever next someone passed to Valhalla, they would tell his brother the truth of it. That Loki Silvertongue loved his brother and always would.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On his way to Midgard, Thor has an encounter with an unexpected threat, and makes a surprising ally.

**_‘-LERT. WARNING - PROXIMITY ALERT. UNKNOWN VESSEL APPROACHING. PROXIMITY ALERT. WARNING. UNKNOWN VESSEL APPROACHING... ’_ **

Thor woke to the sound of alarms blaring throughout the ship, and the steady, calm voice of the ship’s computer repeating its warning. He fell out of the bed, limbs heavy and numb from sleep and his head pounding. Wrapping his blanket around his waist, he hurried to the cockpit, slamming a fist on the alarms and quickly scanning the lines of information as they scrolled down the screens.

It was a huge ship, and it was directly in front of him. Thor strapped himself into the captain’s seat and skillfully maneuvered his small ship out of the way of the enormous vessel bearing down on him.

The name  _ ‘Sanctuary II’ _ was emblazoned on the side, and Thor felt an odd chill run down his spine as it passed him by. His ship was barely the size of one of the window’s he could see, the ship absolutely dwarfed his. He watched as it passed him by on his scanner - his own ship was a barely registered blip beside it.

There was something about that ship that made the hair on his arms stand up and something cold settle in his gut. He felt weirdly as though he should be in his full Asgardian battle regalia as it finally,  _ finally _ passed him by. It made him think of a terrible enemy facing him down across an open battlefield.

“Being utterly ridiculous,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s a  _ ship _ .”

Still, he waited until the  _ Sanctuary II _ was gone from sight and no longer registering on his long range scanners before he left the cockpit and went back to bed. A check of his clock showed he’d been asleep for less than three hours, and sleep still called to him.

His dreams were violent, and shaded as though he were watching it all take place through Stark’s favored red lenses. A giant being with purple skin and a massive golden gauntlet taunted him, Loki died over and over, Asgard burned and through it all, Thor could hear an unfamiliar voice telling him  _ ‘this was the only way _ ’.

He was tired and irritable when he next woke, and wished desperately for something to hit. Tivan had told him he had ‘ _ no idea the  _ **_waves_ ** _ you are sending through the universe acting upon this as you are. The things you are changing… you are  _ **_rewriting_ ** _ the very story of the universe.’ _

Had this been what he meant? Was Thor dreaming of what should have come to pass had his mother taken the blade?

Thor let himself sit a while on his bed, still wrapped in nothing but the blanket he’d taken from the bed last night. Not wanting to test the limits of the seams on his clothing, Thor plodded out to the storage room to see if there was anything in there that might fit.

Somehow, it didn’t surprise him at all to see his own clothing hanging neatly from a rack in the corner. With a smile that still felt out of place, he dressed himself in all but the armoured leathers, and gathered what he wanted for breakfast.

_ ‘Look at you, the mighty Thor, with all your strength. And what good does it do you now, huh? Do you hear me brother? There's nothing you can do!’ _

Loki’s voice seemed to be echoing around him as he ate, tormenting him with bitter memories. The food tasted of ashes and Thor gagged as Loki laughed. He threw the rest of his bread down onto the table and slumped forwards in his seat, head resting on his folded arms.

_ ‘Do you think that you can save them, Thor? You couldn’t even save  _ **_yourself_ ** _.’ _

“Enough, Loki,” he whispered, and Loki laughed again.

_ ‘Kneel before me. I said...  _ **_kneel_ ** _! Is not this simpler? Is this not your natural state? It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom diminishes your life's joy in a mad scramble for power. For identity. You were made to be ruled. In the end, you will always kneel.’ _

The words his brother had spoken in Germany rang in his ears, and Thor wondered briefly if he were going insane.

_ ‘Is it madness? Is it?  _ **_IS IT_ ** _? I don't know what happened on Earth to make you so soft!’ _

“I am… not soft,” he shook his head and pressed his burning eyes against his forearms. “Loki, brother, I beg of you. Leave me be.”

_ ‘Shan’t,’ _ Loki sing-songed.

Thor drew a shuddery breath, and sighed. “You are not Loki.”

Loki laughed, a deep and vicious sounding thing, and Thor could hear the crackles in it. It sounded like it was being piped into the room through an old speaker system.

_ ‘I am your beloved brother _ . _ ’ _

Thor shook his head, and refused to look up. “No. Loki is often cruel, but he would never taunt me so. Not even when his mind was in the grip of another was he so cruel to me.”

_ ‘You have no idea what it is that you have changed, Thor Odinson. I am not so foolish now as to follow a Titan without a chance of victory.’ _

A...titan?

_ ‘He was to be a glorious ruler, to take and annihilate the universe. And I was to serve at his right hand. But no more. Taneleer Tivan is not the only one who watches the weaving of the universe. You pulled a thread that has changed the pattern, changed the design. And now he is adrift, and my life is without purpose.’ _

Thor snorted and finally lifted his head. There was an outline of a tall, thin creature standing before him, it’s hands templed and long tattered robes brushing along the floor. There was a fine chain of gold around its neck, and Thor could see it had neither nose nor lips.

“Who… who are you?”

The thing gave him a regal nod and finally stopped using his brother’s voice.  _ ‘My name is Ebony Maw. I have long served at the side of Thanos, he who would be Ruler. But when you pulled a thread out of such a crucial row of the tapestry, there is no chance for him to gain power.’ _ The creature swept its long, bony arms outwards and bowed deeply from its waist.  _ ‘My humble personage bows before your grandeur. No other being has ever had the might, nay the nobility, to wield not one, but two Infinity Stones. The universe lies within your grasp.’ _

“I do not wield the stones, creature,” Thor spat and pushed himself up roughly from the table. “I have no desire for the universe! All I seek now is to stop the Convergence destroying Midgard and safeguard my brother’s mind!” He paused, and glared at Maw. “I do not have two stones within my grasp,” he said quietly. “I have nothing now, except the means to contain the Aether.”

_ ‘And just what do you think the Aether is?’ _

Thor sighed. “It is a stone?”

Maw nodded, and pulled himself upright.  _ ‘It is. As is your beloved Tesseract, though I feel you have worked that out on your own already.’ _

Thor narrowed his eyes at Maw. “Aye. And what of it? It is far from your reaching grasp, creature.”

Ebony Maw simply looked at him, it’s face unchanging and it’s eyes unblinking.  _ ‘I have no desire to wield the stones, or hold the universe. I seek only to aid those who would. My powers are not enough to contain them, nor to keep them from taking my mind over.’ _

“And you wish me to attempt this foolishness?”

_ ‘Do you think yourself unworthy?’ _

Thor nodded. “I do. Verily. I think that there are none who should wield the stones as such. They were scattered across the cosmos for a reason, Maw. It is not wise to bring them together. Odin guards the gauntlet, and the Aether will join the Tesseract in the vault.”

_ ‘So you think it unwise to wield them together, and yet you will keep them together?’ _ Maw mocked him quietly and Thor turned his back on the flickering image the creature was projecting.

“You are moving too far away to keep this pretense up,” he said and Maw nodded. “You wish to board.”

_ ‘I do.’ _

“That will not happen. However… allies are useful and far between for a dead Asgardian God.” Thor glanced back over his shoulder at Ebony Maw’s thin frame and shook his head. “You will join me in assisting Midgard. If you truly seek redemption from serving this Thanos, then you will aid me. I am the God of Thunder, little creature, and though your mental prowess is impressive,” he’d felt the constant nudges at the mental shields Loki had taught him to erect, “you cannot best my brother. You will join us and he will ultimately decide your fate.”

_ ‘That is most fair of you, Thor Odinson. I shall find you.’ _ The image bowed deeply again, and flickered out of sight.

Thor sighed heavily and slunk back to his bed. His mouth felt dry and his throat ached as though he’d been yelling. 

“By the Norns,” he whispered to the ceiling once he was laying down. “I do believe my brother is somehow less dramatic than that creature.”

Thor spent the last of his short trip to Midgard sharpening and honing his skill with the small pair of daggers he’d found in the ship’s small supply room. They were made of a strange metal that seemed familiar to him, a gleaming silver blade with a bright blue hilt. There was no real room for him to move or properly train, but he could comfortably swing his arms about in the small space behind the cockpit.

**_“You have reached your destination. Initiating landing procedures. Please brace for atmospheric re-entry. You have reached your destination. Initiating - ”_ **

He quickly silenced the AI’s voice, strapped himself into the captain’s seat, and switched the ship’s control to manual. He sped through the atmosphere of Midgard and banked sharply to the left. His original destination had been New York City, but with Jane on Asgard, Selvig was his only hope of pinpointing the exact location where the Convergence would peak, and he was based in London now.

His destination right now, however, was somewhere completely different. With the ship cloaked and moving quickly across Midgard, Thor slowed, double checked his coordinates and gently landed the ship on a reasonably flat, snowy plain. His armour and cloak were beaten free of dust and put back on, his hair was roughly shaken out - the mourning braids still firmly in place and the spot where his head had been shorn was still spiky, the hair not growing back. His beard was tidy, boots laced and daggers firmly belted to his waist when Thor stepped out of the ship onto the grounds of his oldest Temple on Midgard.

Norway was much the same as it had been 1,500 years ago. The ground was cold and firm beneath his boots, and the snow crunched as he walked towards the ruins of his Temple, flocks of sheep scattering before him.

“You know, I coulda sworn a fella that looked just like you dropped his hammer up in New Mexico couple years back. Damn near totalled my truck tryin’ to get it.” Thor looked over at the elderly man who had paused on his walk to stare at him, and gave him a friendly smile.

“Aye good sir, twas indeed my hammer! All is well now, however. I am simply… visiting.”

“Not sure what you’re planning to see, son. But there’s not a lot out here. Just sheep and ruins. All the action was back in New York.  _ Aliens! _ ” He tipped his hat at Thor and winked over the top of his sunglasses, before he walked off again, whistling out of tune as he followed the sheep.

“What a peculiar man,” Thor murmured as he watched him disappear over a small hill with his sheep around him. He gave a cordial wave in his direction and turned to keep walking to his temple. His worshippers had grown fewer in number over the years, but there were enough of them still that if he sat and concentrated, there was a good chance that even without Mjolnir to aid him and focus his lightning, he should still be able to summon and wield it.

The storms were  _ his _ domain.

He entered the ruins of his temple slowly, immediately feeling the push of the latent power against his skin and sighed in relief. Seidr and its uses may not be his strong point, but even he knew magical exhaustion from time to time. He had no concerns about Heimdallr’s eye finding him here in his sacred space. The temple sat on one of the few places on Midgard that his eye could find no focus. It was where the magic of Yggdrasil was strongest, and fed into Midgard - for although her people had forgotten it’s use and the knowledge of seidr - the  _ leylines _ of the earth were strong. And now, with some time and meditation, Thor would be strong again too.

Strong enough to stop the Convergence and pull the Aether from Lady Jane before the damage was permanent.

He settled himself in, folding his red cloak beneath his legs and tucking his hands into his lap as Loki had taught him. Meditation - focusing and stillness - had never been his strength. But when his lightning had first spiralled out of his control and injured him, Loki had forced him to sit and learn. Thor had refused to let their mother teach him, and so Loki had taken it upon himself to instruct Thor in the art. He’d not listened to any of Thor’s complaints about his extremities going numb from sitting still so long, or about how bored he was. Instead, he’d just shown Thor the patience he needed to learn.

His little brother had helped him to calm the storm inside of his soul that fed the storms he controlled.

But he’d been cruelly rebuffed when he’d tried to thank Loki.

_ “Brother! I thank you for helping me thusly! How fantastic your knowledge is.” _

_ Loki scoffed at him and turned his head away. “Tis nothing, you big oaf. Simply a matter of focus and concentration on something more than bloodshed and battle.” _

Thor wondered if perhaps Loki had always had some inkling that he was not a true Aesir. Most his age had been mad for battle, lust and ale. But Loki had always been different. He was quiet where Thor was loud, and focused where Thor was not. But they’d always worked well together. Loki always had his back in battle, and Thor had always, always done his best to do the same and to protect his little brother from anything he could. But it had never been quite enough.

The power of his temple was seeping into his very bones now, and all Thor could do was breathe through it as Loki had taught him. He desperately wished that his brother were beside him now, guiding him and supporting him.

But he was alone. Loki was on Asgard with his mother and Jane still, and there they would remain until the Convergence grew closer. There was nothing to call them to Midgard early. Thor looked down at his fingers and tapped them idly against the scar on his heart. They were glowing with the brilliant blue of his lightning, small sparks crackling and jumping between his fingertips.

If he only possessed the same control as his brother, then maybe he could erase the disgrace he felt at the knowledge of the scar on his chest.

Men like Stark wore their scars with pride - knowing that they had come out on top and better for it. But an Aesir wasn’t meant to scar.

He’d been so easily defeated, and still it rankled him.

_ “Focus Thor!”  _ He jerked his head up and looked around him wildly.

“L-Loki?” he frowned and sighed. “Ebony Maw? Have you returned to taunt me again?”

_ “If you do not focus, big brother, it is going to consume you from the inside out.” _

A memory.

Loki instructing him in meditation and maintaining his calm.

_ “Breathe, Thor. Breathe in the feel of the world around us, feel the grass beneath your fingers and embrace it. Breathe out your battle rage, the lightning that is still flashing in the sky. Be calm. Be still. Breathe in, breathe out, and let it go, Thor. Not every battle can be won with your hammer and fists. Control your storm before it overwhelms you.” _

And was this not the same? If he didn’t calm himself and focus, his guilt and shame would consume him now, much as his lightning had once threatened to.

“Focus,” he muttered. “Tis not the time for maudlin selfishness.”

Thor settled himself back down, pulling his cloak around his legs like a blanket, closing his eyes and letting himself just  _ be. _

When he opened his eyes next, it was dark - the kind of dark that one immediately knew was the very middle of the night, the moon and the stars hidden behind a thick covering of rain clouds, and Thor realised abruptly that he was soaking wet. The rain was pelting down, more ice than rain, and he turned his face up into it, the lightning that was flashing and crackling bringing peace to his soul. A fork struck down close by him, and the rock it hit splintered and shattered, leaving fragments in a perfect circle around it.

“Well,” he grinned, “at least it was not my doing this time.”

Loki had never let him forget the incident with the stones. And the mortals of Midgard had decided that the abandoned game he’d attempted to drag Loki and Frigga into during some harebrained imagining of his tiny self, was some kind of mystical place.

_ Stonehenge _ they called it.

Thor had thought his game to be most clever, until he’d sneezed and struck the stone pillars with his lightning, cracking them and exploding the circle outwards around them. Whatever his game had meant to be, it had not involved a circle of stone’s stuck in the ground. He’d stomped his foot and dragged them home again.

Loki had taunted him for  _ years _ about it, especially once he learned what the mortals thought it was.

He stood and shook the water from his hair and beard, relishing in the feel of the oldest of Midgard’s magics moving within his veins and making him feel… alive. Alive as he had not felt since Hel had left him in this new, scarred body on Knowhere. And if he were being honest, perhaps more alive than he’d felt since his father had first struck him down to Midgard.

All of his mistakes, all his choices that had caused nothing but pain. It had been  _ his _ fault that Loki’s Jotun heritage had been exposed, that he’d not been told under better circumstances, by someone who  _ knew _ Loki and would have known how to tell him without shattering his little brother’s heart and mind.

The rain was freezing around him, and Thor let it. The heat of the tears on his cheeks was like a searing reminder of his own ignorance to his brother’s pain. He sighed heavily, and started to slowly make his way back to the ship.

**_“You are dawdling, Uncle.”_ **

Thor stopped and turned his head to the left. A shimmering outline of a little girl stood there, barefoot and grinning at him from beneath a tangle of wild black curls, her bright pink dress a bright contrast to the dull countryside around them.

“Hello Hel,” he said quietly, knowing his niece would hear him over the howling of the winds. “What brings you here, my little love?”

Hel scuffed her toes in the ground and twirled around.  **_“Do you like my dress? It’s a new television show that the mortals are rather enamoured with. It has ponies and magic.”_ **

Thor smiled at her and started walking slowly again. “Tis a lovely dress, Hel.”

She smirked at him, and skipped along beside him. Her ability to shift and change her appearance at will was a gift from Loki, and while usually it would bring a smile to his face, now he just felt his heart skip a beat as she suddenly changed again. Her limbs lengthened and her hair spiraled down her back as she aged rapidly beside him. It was the face of a beautiful young woman who smiled at him next, unruffled by the winds and driving rain.

“Is that not taxing on your magics, little love?”

She shrugged and bounced ahead of him. **_“A little. But it gets awful boring down here, Uncle Thor.”_** She turned and gave the realm he couldn’t see a disappointed look. **_“There aren’t even any magical friendship-loving ponies here. But that is beside the point,”_** she turned to glare at him. **_“You’re dawdling. You are supposed to be on your way to intercept Mama and Malekith. That was our agreement.”_**

“What do you mean, Hel, intercepting your Mother? Is he not still on Asgard, comforting  _ our _ Mother?” He had a very, very bad feeling about this. When Hel shook her head, Thor grit his teeth together so hard he felt his jaw creak.  _ Norns be Damned, Loki!  _ “Then where, pray tell, exactly  _ is _ Loki now?” 

“Sorry Uncle,” she grinned up at him, and Thor could see she was not sorry. At all. “That’s not my story to tell.” 

Thor sighed heavily and pressed a button on the small device tucked away in his pocket. The ship shimmered into view and he stepped inside the opened door. “It will all be over with soon, Hel. One way or another, your Mother will be safe and Malekith stopped. Trust me, hm?”

Hel watched him with shrewd eyes as she nodded only once. Thor smiled at her and let the door close.

**_“Tis not your time, Thor Stormbringer. But I will see you at the end of your battle.”_** He could hear the grief, the unending pain of her position as the keeper of the dead in her voice. But there was hope underneath it all.

Thor sat slowly in the captain’s seat, Hel’s parting words echoing in his mind. “See you soon, my littlest love,” he whispered to the air, before cloaking the ship once more and taking off. He would have to travel at a slower speed within Midgard’s atmosphere or risk damaging the ship with the pollutants in the air. A quick look at his trajectory and maps, and Thor sighed. He was still six hours away from where the Convergence would take place.

Thor knew his time was limited. The magic that Hel had spent to bring him back, to bind him to this new body… it wouldn’t last.  _ Couldn’t  _ last. 

**_I will claim what is owed when_ ** **I** **_feel it is time…_ **

There was no mistaking those words. She intended to let him stop Malekith, to aid in the salvation of the realms and Midgard… and then he would be taken back to Niflheim. An eternity spent in the dark realm of the dead, wandering alone and forgotten. For none who were brave enough to visit dared to speak the names of those whose souls lingered there. He sighed and scrubbed his hands tiredly over his face. They were worries for a different hour.

He left his wet armour and cloak to dry, giving himself nothing more than a cursory wipe down with a small towel on his way to the bedroom. A nap would pass the time faster than if he simply sat and watched the windows. A brief look around to ensure that everything he would need in Greenwich was in sight and easy reach, and Thor let himself fall gracelessly onto the small bed, dragging a pillow over his eyes and groaning with pleasure at the darkness and silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, indeed, that was a Stan Lee cameo. It's obligatory, you see. <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki and Jane escape Asgard with the help of one of Loki's children. On Midgard, they meet up with Darcy and Erik.

It took barely a moment for him to move from his room to the gates of the palace, walking with ease along the branches of the World Tree. Even before he exited through the door his seidr had crafted, he could hear the singing and loud clinking of cups as people filled themselves with wine and told tales of Thor’s bravery. Volstagg, Hogun, and Fandral would no doubt be waxing poetic about his battle prowess. Volstagg especially, once he got deep enough into the wine to not be bothered with embarrassment. It had been his poetry, not his own considerable battle-skill, with which he had wooed his wife, though Volstagg would never admit such a thing uncoerced for fear of being ridiculed and called Ergi. Nevermind that bards and minstrels were held in high esteem. Truly, his brother’s friends often left him more confused than the most difficult spells. 

He lingered for a moment within his seidr-crafted doorway and listened. Sure enough, Volstagg’s voice rose above the others, slurring only slightly with the beginnings of drunkenness. No doubt Thor would be greatly entertained, watching on from Valhalla. Perhaps Volstagg’s regard would even bring him to a blush. Loki chuckled at the thought, but there was only a brief burst of humor in it. Volstagg should not be singing such songs.

_ If it were I, brother, it might be you and mother mourning me, but no other. I know well you lied when you spoke of all mourning me when you came to me on Midgard. There is little to mourn, but you would find every inch, wouldn’t you? You and our mother. _

He listened a moment longer, then turned his attention to making certain the area was clear. He needn’t have been concerned, of course. All would be mourning the loss of the God of Thunder.

A single step carried him through the doorway and he returned to the world at Jane Foster’s side.

The scientist jumped slightly at his sudden presence but she neither screamed nor drew any attention to them. He spared a moment to be impressed. 

“Where to from here?” she asked in a sharp whisper and he rolled his eyes. False alarm. Leave it to mortals to be as unsubtle as it was possible to be, stumbling around like a newborn colt. 

“You make yourself more conspicuous acting like that.” He began walking and she rushed to follow. “ _ You  _ are not the one meant to be in prison.”

“No, I’m just the one who broke you out.”

He hummed. “You never did say  _ why _ .” She gave him a sharp look. “Yes, I am to avenge my brother, but doing so will not bring him back, and I have decimated your world. Frankly, I sooner expected to be slapped than freed.”

“It was tempting,” she said after a moment, “but Thor told me what happened. He said your mind was not your own. I’m sorry.”

Loki looked away from her, trying not to think of the irony of a mortal human sympathizing with him when the man who had called himself Loki’s father for centuries could not be bothered to even  _ listen _ .

“It’s what Thor would have wanted.” Loki glanced at her as she spoke. “The… feasting was meant to honor Thor. I could think of no better way to honor him than to release you.” Her mouth turned down in a sharp frown. “And I didn’t have Darcy’s taser with me. It seemed the next best thing to giving your dad the finger.”

“He’s not my father,” Loki said, but it was only half-hearted. This woman was so fascinating. She didn’t even seem to fear Odin a bit. She was more irritated at him than anything. No wonder Thor had fallen so hard for her.

“So, how are we getting to Earth? Midgard.” She grimaced and looked around, clearly waiting for someone to leap out at her and the dangerous prisoner.  

Loki rolled his eyes and turned to her with a wink. “Would it make you feel better if I were in disguise?” His form shifted easily into that of the Captain who fought alongside Thor’s little Midgardian boy-band. “Would you like to have a rousing discussion about truth? Justice?”

“Stop that!” Jane hissed. “He’s even more audacious than you in your new cloak.” 

“He is, isn’t he?” Loki asked, looking the body over before allowing himself to shift back. “Bit of an odd-colored peacock, if you ask me.”

Jane had apparently decided to ignore his attempt at humor. Pity, really. It was almost painful seeing her sad. Thor would get that kicked puppy look on his face. Loki  _ hated _ that look. 

He’d give anything to see it now.

“Are we taking the Einstein-Rosen Bridge?” Jane asked, interrupting his thoughts. He let them be shaken off, and damn his melancholy - he had no time for it.

“Heimdallr is loyal to Odin. The Bifrost is closed to us.” Besides that, even if he wasn’t, he would never assist Loki with anything. That had become very clear. “And I am not in the position to teleport both of us so far.” He was all but exhausted. The cage that Odin had placed him in had been purposely created to keep users of seidr from regaining the strength of their magic. It continually sapped them of energy, leaving them incapable of doing much of anything.

He had done what he was able to conserve his strength. In truth, it was Frigga’s presence which had assisted him most of all. The cage would not risk pulling at her seidr and those moments had granted him a reprieve. The presence of another user of seidr was also always a comfort. That was the only thing that had allowed him to so much frivolous use of his magic. He would need to replenish more as they traveled to Midgard, and the best way to do that would be to walk among the branches of Yggdrasil, from which Asgard’s magic stemmed.

“Luckily for us, I have a man inside.” He pushed open the doors of the stables and smiled. “Well. I say a man.”

“Does that horse have eight legs?”

He did indeed have eight legs. Standing alone in the stables which had been built for him, Loki’s eldest son raised his head to regard them both with intelligent, dark eyes. He was a gorgeous stallion - the most beautiful in all the realms, although Loki would freely admit to being biased. “Hello, Sleipnir,” he said, pressing a hand to his son’s face. “I have need of your assistance. We must get to Midgard, to avenge your uncle.”

Sleipnir looked at Jane for a moment before turning his head to Loki. “Of course, Mother,” the stallion said. ( _ “Oh my god, he talks.” _ ) “Anything for Uncle Thor.”

Loki was experienced at traveling the branches of Yggdrasil, but it was Sleipnir he had learned the skill from. His son was sired by a magical horse and was magical himself. He had been galloping across the realms and the places in between before he had finished weaning. Loki had been trained to balance along the branches by chasing after his errant child as he delighted in leading Loki on a merry chase across the universe.

It had served him well in his life, though the learning of it had been… frustrating at times. And for all his talent at walking the branches in any of his forms, Sleipnir was still better.

Jane sat behind him on the stallion’s back, her arms wrapped around Loki’s waist a little tighter than he thought the situation warranted, but she had apparently never ridden an animal before and didn’t appreciate the experience being thrust upon her. Still, Sleipnir moved swiftly, racing so fast across the pathways that the world was a swirl of white, brown, and gleaming starshine around them. Almost as soon as they entered the place between realms, they were exiting. Sleipnir’s eight legs kicked up a fierce dust as he galloped out of the doorway and into the field, faster than any normal horse could hope to manage

He didn’t slow but kept running, faster than any other horse in all of the realms. He, Loki knew, was the true king among horses, or would have been, had Odin not saddled him like a common steed.

“Where are we?” Jane asked from behind him.

“Close,” Sleipnir said, and kept running.

They were running through a field, but in the distance, Loki could see buildings against the skyline. “Sleipnir, this is New York,” Loki told his son. They needed to be in London.

Sleipnir snorted. “Watch and learn, Mama.” He kept running, kicking up a cloud of dust behind him as the tall buildings grew ever closer.

Loki felt it a moment before they reached the branch of Yggdrasil, and then Sleipnir leapt and they weren’t in New York anymore but racing across one of the branches of the World Tree that stretched over the sea. It only took a few moments and the stallion leapt out into the world, hooves striking stone with a ringing chime, and they dodged around the pillars of Stonehenge.

“That was amazing!” Jane cried, looking back behind them as the circle of ancient stones faded into the distance.

Sleipnir whinnied a laugh. “Did you hear that, Mama? I’m  _ amazing.” _

“And so humble, too,” Loki teased. Jane laughed.

* * *

They finally stopped outside Jane’s apartment building and she eyed the elevator she could see with trepidation as she slid down from Sleipnir’s back. “Um... I don’t think you’ll be able to get upstairs, Sleipnir.”   


The stallion turned his head and winked at her. “I’m a magic horse, milady.” He jumped from hoof to hoof like a jogger bouncing in place. “These hooves were made for impressing.”   


Loki sighed loudly. “Sleipnir, stop—“   


The stallion disappeared in a blur of legs and magic.   


“—hitting on Miss Foster,” he finished lamely, then looked at Jane. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t get out very often and it overexcites him.” His shoulders dropped. “He also might be... compensating.”   


“It’s all right,” Jane said, wiping her eyes of fresh tears. “I understand. He’s a good boy, Loki.”   


Loki’s smile was small and sad. “Thank you.” He held out his hand toward the doors. “Shall we?”   


The ride up to the eleventh floor was uneventful, and Jane led the way to her apartment. She unlocked it quickly and they stepped inside to find the place an absolute disaster.   


“Oh dear,” Jane murmured.   


Loki was frowning. “Sleipnir?” he called.   


“No, this wasn’t him,” Jane hurriedly assured him, waving her hand. She stepped further into the room and they both saw that the once-white walls had been covered in a runic script that ran from floor to ceiling. The entire apartment smelled like sharpie.   


“Can you read that?” Jane asked quietly.   


“Unfortunately, yes.”   


There was the sound of something falling and then an “oh no, go back to bed! I’m serious!”   


“Darcy?” Jane called, moving further into the apartment.   


“Jane!” The brunette came running out of the bedroom and plowed into Jane. “You’re back! You’re—“ She caught sight of Loki behind her. “You’ve turned to the Dark Side.” She shoved her hand in her pocket. “Who invited you, Captain Stabby?”   


Jane grabbed Darcy’s arm. “Darcy, what happened?” Darcy tried to pull away from her. “No. No tasing. What happened?”   


Darcy squinted at Loki but then turned her full attention to Jane. “So I... may have done a thing while you were gone.”   


“Daaaaarcy,” Jane groaned.   


“Don’t worry, it’s only  _ slightly _ illegal.” Something shattered in the bedroom. “And probably really, really expensive.”   


Jane released Darcy and stormed toward the bedroom, only to stop in the doorway. “Erik?” She covered her eyes with her hand and turned away. “Oh... Erik. Darcy, what?”   


The scientist was standing on her headboard in nothing but a light blue dressing gown that hadn’t been tied, a permanent marker in either hand as he drew runes with both across her walls. She was never getting her security deposit back.   


“Darcy. What is going on?”   


Darcy stepped into the room and smiled in an absolutely not reassuring way. “So... you remember the iPod thief?”   


“Agent Coulson.”   


Loki winced in the hall and turned away from them to hide his expression.   


“Yeah, him. So he supposedly died during the battle of New York, right? Except I ran into him at fucking Starbucks a couple days ago he was just sitting there, drinking a latte and listening to Cat Stevens -  _ Cat Stevens, _ Jane - on  _ my fucking iPod. _ ”   


“I’m happy to hear that Agent Coulson is alive, but what does this have to do with...” Jane waved her hand behind her, where Erik was balanced in all his mostly-naked glory.   


“Well see, I talk to Tony Stark, because he’s a genius  _ and _ sexy as hell and if the option ever arises to tap that—“   


“Darcy. Focus.”   


“Right. Okay, so, Pepper and iPod Thief were friends and everybody knows that, but Tony  _ really liked him, _ and Tony doesn’t really like a lot of people. Not like that. And it hurt him when he died, so I may have been just a little bit angry when I saw him sitting there, perfectly fine and not telling anyone, and I may have threatened to post about him and SHIELD on my blog and some other things we know but aren’t allowed to know and so don’t officially know because we don’t want to get  _ erased _ .”   


Jane was beginning to get a headache. “So...”   


“So I told Coulson I wouldn’t go find the muggle equivalent of Rita Skeeter and help her—them, whoever— dig up everything about a secret organization that  _ so doesn’t not exist _ if he talked to Tony, and helped me break Erik out of the loony bin.”   


Jane definitely had a headache. “You... you blackmailed a super spy. Darcy, you blackmailed an actual, literal Man In Black.”   


“I know, right? I’m awesome. Still didn’t get my iPod back, though.”

Jane turned to look at Erik but quickly turned back around. “Darcy. Bringing Erik here might not have been the best idea.”

“But he knows stuff,” Darcy said, “and the hospital wouldn’t let him write it down and he kept getting upset.” She muttered something unintelligible, then said, “Sorry about your walls, though.”

“Oh, Erik,” Jane murmured sadly.

“I believe I can help with... his situation,” Loki said quietly, prompting the two to look at him. “It’s my fault he’s suffering like this, after all.”

Darcy glared at him. “Listen here, tall, dark, and unfairly attractive, I don’t trust you! I’m not letting you near my friend.” She turned to Jane. “Why did you bring him back with you? Where’s Thor?”

Jane bit her bottom lip, then looked at Loki. “You can help him?”

Loki nodded. “I suspect I know what happened. It will be easy to fix.” Darcy actually growled at him. “I promise I shall not hurt him, Miss Lewis. You have my word.”

“What’s your word worth, God of Lies?”

_ "You might want to take the stairs to the left." _

“Everything,” he said quietly, and stepped past her into the room.

“Darcy, come over here,” Jane said behind him. “I need to tell you something. Okay? Come here.”

Loki tuned them out. He stepped up to the bed and studied the other man. The scientist looked as though he had missed a few meals and was in need of a shower, and Loki was pleased they would be able to find both here. If this was one of the men who could help them find the central point of the Convergence, they would need him in top form.

“Dr. Selvig?” he called softly.

The doctor turned and looked at him, and his hands finally went still. “Silvertongue,” the doctor said. “Liesmith. Prince of Asgard. Prince of Jotunheim. God of Lies.” His eyes fell on Loki’s helmet. “Mockingbird.” He blinked. “It suits you.”

“Thank you,” Loki said quietly. He made a motion at the walls. “It seems your mind is still connected to mine on some level if you are telling such tales as these.”

“The truth will set you free,” Dr. Selvig said. “It burns when I don’t write it down. Hurts when I say it. My tongue wasn’t meant for these words.”

“No. No mortal’s was. May I take them from you?” He held out his hand in offer.

“Make me forget?” Dr. Selvig tilted his head. “No. Sweep up the shards. Take all the broken pieces away. No more reflecting. I’ll be me again. That sounds nice. Your head hurts inside.”

“I know. I’m sorry about that.”

Dr. Selvig took his hand. “Fix me then fix you?”

“Let’s just worry about you for now.” Loki places his palm on the doctor’s forehead. “This might get a little dizzying. Just hold on.”

Stepping into Erik Selvig’s brain was a bit like meditating but without the calming aspect of it. Instead, he found himself taking in the shattered pieces of his own consciousness, or what had been left of it after Thanos’ treatment. He hadn’t been in a good state himself, but the fact that there were parts of those memories here that were formed together said that Selvig had been able to piece some parts back to rights.  _ That _ had no doubt been what triggered this strike of madness. Selvig had suddenly had memories in his head that spanned longer than his own life, and while he’d done admirably at adjusting to them, there were parts of being a god that didn’t translate to mortals. It was those parts that Loki sought out first.

“I can hear them,” Selvig whispered brokenly, and Loki realized the man was crying. “They pray to you for their children. Always their children. God of Lies. God of Tricks.”

“Tricks are for kids,” Loki said, and Selvig laughed tiredly.

“I hear that one a lot.”

“She prays often,” Loki murmured, finding the line of  _ worship _ that twisted through Selvig’s mind, power curling within his consciousness that his mortal self had no knowledge of what to do with. A god could pull that power into themselves, or expend it where needed, but a mortal could not.

No wonder the man had been desperate to write everything that was in his head. It probably offered him some relief. Art, after all, was a form of creation, and that was the providence of the gods.

Loki twisted his fingers into the line of prayers and felt it when they recognized him, for they turned and filled him with a suddenness that was tidal. He held on, careful not to hurt Selvig, as the attention of his followers turned back to him. He hadn’t even realized they were missing until this moment, as they filled a blank hole in his being and eased the ache of weakness his wounded seidr had caused.

After that, it was easy to clear away the detritus. Loki did not force Selvig to forget the memories, but he helped to organize them using his own, sliding pieces together or putting scenes in the proper order, until the jumbled mess was less like a dumping ground and more like a library. Only once he was sure everything was well did he retreat, releasing his hold on Selvig and stepping away to give the man space. Frigga knew he had been in the man’s head too much already for anyone.

He could hear someone crying in the other room. Jane must have told Darcy what happened to Thor. Loki almost hoped she tased him for it. It wouldn’t assuage his guilt, but at least it might make her feel better.

“Your head isn’t a nice place to be,” Selvig muttered, looking up.

“No, it’s really not.” He studied the man’s face. “Are you well?”

“As well as can be expected. Did you come here for this?”

“Not directly, but Jane will need your help determining the central point of the Convergence and you cannot find it with your mind ajumble.”

Selvig modded. “I should go—“

“You should clean yourself, then eat.  _ Then _ we will concern ourselves with other things.” He rose from where he had been leaning on the door. “I must speak with Miss Foster.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a discussion with these mortals he has found himself surrounded by, but his thoughts are never far from Thor.

Jane was sitting on the couch with her arm around Darcy, who had brought her legs up and was crying into her knees. The doctor raised her head and looked at Loki as he walked into the room. “I told her about what happened.”

Loki nodded. “Thank you.” It would sound better coming from Jane, as she was a friend of Darcy. Erik would also need to be told, but that could wait until he had some time to put his head back on straight.

He settled into a chair across from the couch. “Dr. Selvig is cleaning up. He should eat something once he’s dressed.” They should all eat something, really. Loki doubted Jane had consumed much in the last couple days, and Darcy appeared to have been lax a few meals, as well. Something Jane seemed to notice, too, if the way she was looking at Darcy was any indication.

Apparently it was a common thing with those who were prone to falling into a sort of spell of creative madness. Loki had had the unfortunate habit of forgetting to eat himself on occasion, which wasn’t good when it came to regular meals and even worse when it came to the apples of Iðunn, which they needed to consume to retain their immortality. The first time that Loki had fainted because he’d been in the midst of discovering how to teleport with his seidr and forgotten to eat for almost two days, Thor had sat him down in the kitchens and threatened to force feed him Cook’s stew. Not that Cook Kanil needed any help with the whole making Loki eat part once he was there. She was a terrifying woman who wielded a ladle in much the same way as Thor had Mjölnir, only if Loki were to choose between them, he’d rather face Thor.

“I’ll make this easy and just order some pizza,” Jane said, rising from the couch. “Will you be okay for a minute, Darcy?”

The other girl nodded against her legs but didn’t say anything.

Loki sat there quietly, feeling immensely out of place amongst these mortals, and yet also somehow like this was right where he needed to be. He didn’t understand the second sensation but was far too well-acquainted with the first.

After a few moments during which he could hear Jane speaking over the phone in the kitchen, Darcy pulled her face away from her knees with a sniffle. Her face was red and wet and her eyes were puffy. She wiped away her tears as she folded her legs under her. “Sorry,” she mumbled.

Loki felt the echo of his own grief, like water pulled out deep into the ocean in preparation for a tidal force that would consume him on its incoming. He suspected it would wait to strike until after he had finished Malekith, but once the elven bastard was dead, he didn’t really care what happened.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he told her softly. “He was your friend.”

“And your brother,” Darcy returned, though there was no accusation in it. Not like he would have expected. Not as he deserved. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

_ "You might want to take the stairs to the left." _

“You have no reason to be. All that I suffer is my own doing. Even this.”  _ Especially this. _

“Is that what the braid is for?”

Loki reached up and touched the braid that hung down behind his ear. He’d removed his helmet upon entering Jane’s apartment and sent it to wait in one of his pocket spaces, along with his cloak and armor. No reason to wander around like a titan prepared to wage war. He’d done that once already and knew how it went.

Besides, there was already one titan too many in this universe.

“It’s a mourning braid,” he said quietly. “A way to carry a piece of him with me.”

She was staring at it intently, some emotion in her eyes he couldn’t identify. “How long will you wear it?”

“Forever. It will be with me when I pass beyond this world, however long that may take. If the Nornir are kind, I will be permitted to keep it even in the halls of Niflheim.”

“You say... when you pass. I thought gods were immortal?”

“Immortal, yes,” he said with a smile, “but not invincible. Though we do not age, we can still die, and do, though it is not a common thing. Thus we carry our grief for those lost longer than other species, for its rarity and the length we have to keep it. But nothing lasts forever. Not even gods.” He looked away from her gaze, too penetrating and far more observant than she herself appeared. A clever guise, this appearance of a careless college student. Especially clever that she even managed to fool him. He would have to remember that. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m nosy.” She smiled at him, a quiet, disarming thing that seemed oddly familiar, though he couldn’t place it. He was about to ask her if he had met her during his foray into madness on Midgard, but Dr. Selvig walked into the room and Darcy leapt to her feet excitedly.

“Erik!” She rushed forward and hugged him, and the childish impulse made Loki think of Hel and smile despite himself. “Are you feeling better?”

He was dressed in a shirt and trousers and look much better after a shower, but he nodded despite the obviousness of it. “I am.” He looked over at Loki. “Thank you.”

Loki shook his head. “It’s my fault you ended up as you did.”

Dr. Selvig snorted. “I sincerely hope you’re not so much of an idiot as to truly believe that or I’ll be truly horrified to have been overcome by you.”

Loki’s eyebrows bunched. “I’m sorry?”

“I know you weren’t in any more control than I was,” Selvig said. “I could feel that even through the fog of that damn sceptre. And despite your own struggle against it, you managed to give me enough leeway to put a failsafe in the portal.” He snorted again. “Your fault my arse.”

Loki thought the doctor might have a few screws loose yet, but before he could suggest taking a look at the man’s head again, Jane walked into the room.

Had they learned the art of interrupting him from Thor? It seemed likely. That was a particular talent of his brother. One he was fairly sure the oaf practiced.

... had practiced.

His felt his humor vanish. What was he even doing here amongst these mortals? He didn’t belong here. Yes, he needed to protect Jane, as his brother would have wanted, but the best way to do that would be to remove the Aether from her entirely. Malekith would come for it, of course he would, but there was no need for her to remain the bait. Not when the Aether could easily be drawn into someone else.

It would suit him perfectly if Malekith were to come directly for him. All the easier to pluck out his eyes.

“Jane,” he said, only realizing after speaking that he had interrupted their conversation, “I know Thor brought you to Asgard to have the Aether removed and you were waiting on the All-Father’s assistance, but there is no need for you to wait any longer.”

“Wait... you can remove it?” Darcy asked, looking at Loki with suspicion. “Why didn’t Thor just bring you here in the first place?”

Loki’s mouth twisted. “I would not... I wasn’t permitted to leave the palace.”

He saw Jane’s jaw tighten as her face went white with fury and oh, yes, here was the woman Thor had fallen for. She, a shieldmaiden in her own right.

“Is it your... the All-Father’s habit of locking up everyone he fails to agree with like they’re animals?”

“Some of us are animals, milady.” Sleipnir trotted with eerie silence out of a corner of the room that had been empty a moment ago. He nuzzled Loki’s cheek gently with his nose. “But no, not those he fails to agree with. Only those he fears.”

“Hush, Sleipnir.”

“I will not,” the stallion said gently. “I have had the best luck of all of us, for I am only required to carry the royal ass upon my back, whereas my brothers have been sealed away, imprisoned, my sister condemned to the realm of the dead, and my mother a prisoner of convention, then mind, and later a physical prisoner.

“I will not be silenced. I also do not think I will be returning to the stables as the common steed of the jackass who sits the throne, braying out his commands and walking amidst the ruin that’s been fertilized by his own shit.”

Jane had a hand over her mouth and it looked as though she was trying very hard not to laugh. “I see you take after your mother when it comes to your tongue.”

“That’s kind of you,” Sleipnir told her. “But I’ll be the first to admit that mine is made of barbed wire, not silver. It’s neither pretty nor smooth.” He tossed his head. “My mane, on the other hand...”

“Wait, hang on.” Darcy said, frowning. “What do you mean “mother?” You’re... Thor’s brother, right?”

“I am both, and either, whenever I wish,” Loki said. He grinned as he allowed himself to shift. His female form wasn’t much different from his male form in appearance, asides from the obvious body parts. Just to humor himself a little, he allowed his clothes to shift so a v-neck accentuated his cleavage. He grinned wolfishly at her flummoxed expression.

“So unfairly attractive.” Darcy turned to Jane with a whine. “Why is everyone we know smoking hot? Even Erik is attractive in his own nerdy science way.”

“Thank you?” Erik said uncertainly.

Their laughter fell flat. There was a knock on the door and Darcy bounded toward it to get away from the sudden. “I got it! Pizza time!”

Jane sighed as she left and glanced at Loki before turning her attention to Selvig. “Erik… we have to tell you something.”

“Thor’s dead. I know.” He sighed as they both looked at him in shock. He looked at Loki. “When you’re emotional, you don’t seem to have very good control over your own thoughts.”

And Loki had been in Selvig’s head, trying to unravel the madness he had left. “I’m sorry you had to find out that way. That was unkind.”

“Grief isn’t kind.” Selvig clapped him on the shoulder. “I am sorry.”

Loki nodded and decided not to argue with them, even if he didn’t deserve their sympathies.

“Jane!” Darcy shouted from the door, obviously thinking enough time had passed and a distraction was necessary. “The pizza man needs paid and I don’t want any awkward angels judging my naked ass.”

Jane stepped away to pay for the pizza and Sleipnir stepped up beside Loki, nuzzling his shoulder. “Mama?”

“Yes, Sleipnir?” he asked, reaching up to loosen some of the tangles in his son’s mane.

“It’s going to be okay, Mama.”

Loki sighed and pressed his forehead to Sleipnir’s. “I know, baby.” Sleipnir’s tail swatted at the air in clear agitation at the lie, but Loki didn’t correct himself.

He joined the others as they ate the pizza Jane had ordered, but Loki himself could only bring himself to pick at the cheese. He hadn’t been hungry since his mother told him of Thor’s passing. Sleipnir remained close to him, leaning his flank against Loki’s side. The presence of his son was a comfort, but a terrible part of him wished he could trade it for one more moment with his brother.

Loki rubbed his hand across his mouth and chose to ignore how it shook. He vanished the dismantled slice of pizza with a wave of his hand and rose out of the chair to go to the window.

He ached in a way he never had before. Even after learning he wasn’t his mother’s son, that he was a monster, that his family and life had all been a lie, Loki hadn’t hurt so badly. Even when Sigyn passed, the pain had not been this great. Hers had been a death he was expecting. That did not make it less horrible, knowing that it would occur, but Thor was meant to be with him always. His determination to push his brother away had been something that could not have lasted, not with how stubborn Thor was and how much Loki loved him, and eventually they would have come back together.  _ Should have  _ come back together.

But now there was no hope of that. No hope, even, of Loki apologizing, for Valhalla’s doors would never open for him. Thor was lost to him and without his brother, Loki felt just as lost. Abandoned in a world he no longer understood, nor knew his place in, if he had ever had one to begin with.

The window in front of him began to fog over with ice, but it didn’t matter. Loki couldn’t see the scene beyond it through his tears. He covered his eyes with his hand and sank to his knees in front of the window.

Why did it have to be  _ Thor _ ? Why couldn’t it have been him? No one would miss him if he was stolen away to Helheim, and at least he would go there knowing he could spend his afterlife with his daughter. Why was it that everyone Loki loved was ripped away from him? First his eldest children, then his wife and their children, then his own identity, his sanity, his freedom, and now Thor. Thor, who had never given up on Loki through everything, even after Loki abandoned him time and again, turned his back on him.

The last time he had seen Thor had been during his farce of a trial, and even then, his attention had been focused on Odin. He didn’t recall, didn’t know if he’d even seen, the look on his brother’s face during Odin’s sentencing. Had Thor been as apalled then as he had when Odin had called the Thing? Or had he been relieved?

Was that why he had never visited Loki during his imprisonment in the dungeons? Had Thor realized, after all, that Loki really was nothing more than a monster?

_ You might want to take the stairs to the left. _

“Thor,” he whispered. “Thor, I’m sorry.”

_ “What did you think would happen, brother? Your tongue always was a blade aimed for the heart.” _

Loki wrapped his arms tight around himself but it did nothing to keep back the chill. “I didn’t mean it. I didn’t.” What could the Kursed have done against the power of Hliðskjálf and Gungnir? Against the force that was Odin, backed by the guard and Heimdallr’s ever-vigilant gaze, what hope had one creature, however powerful, had?

The creature hadn’t survived in the end, but Loki had not truly contemplated the cost. For all his plans throughout his life, all his contemplations of possibilities before a single action,  _ this _ was the one he hadn’t thought through.

“Hel?” he called, lifting his head to the window. It was blanked with white, the ice so thick it had begun to form on the inside, curling over the sill. “Hel, could you… would they let me talk to him, if you asked?” He waited for a moment, but as no answer came, he felt the tears burn their way down his face. “Hel?”

She didn’t appear to him, which was the same as a no. It took energy to travel, especially for her and from Niflheim, so she wouldn’t waste it on an answer he could discern just as well from her silence.

“Hel,  _ please _ ,” he whispered, even knowing it would do nothing. Even knowing hearing him beg for something she couldn’t grant would hurt her, he couldn’t not  _ try _ . It was  _ Thor _ . “I don’t know what to do. What am I supposed to do?”

Sleipnir’s head came down and pressed against his cheek. “Mother? Let’s go lie down for a little while, okay?” The stallion pressed his soft nose against Loki’s temple and exhaled a warm breath into his hair. “Mother. The mortals are cold.”

Loki looked up then and he saw that the ice had spread outward from the window, creeping across the walls and ceiling. The carpet beneath him was dusted with frost and there was a sharp, biting chill in the air, like the windless cold of a winter morning before the sun had even reached over the horizon.

Jane and Dr. Selvig sat together on the couch with their laptops, muttering to each other as they worked, but both of them were hunched over the computers. Darcy sat in the armchair, her burgundy cap pulled down over her head and her arms tucked inside the sleeves of her jacket as she very obviously shivered.

_ “Is this the treatment all of your allies get, brother? They offer you their aid and so you offer the cold bite of death in return?”  _ Thor laughed cruelly.  _ “Are you still beneath the titan’s thrall that you send such gifts to Death, or is this what you really are?” _

Loki turned to Sleipnir. “Where?” he managed to croak out. He reached out to his son’s mane but pulled back before he could touch him. He didn’t want to hurt him. He didn’t want to…

Sleipnir leaned his body against Loki’s just enough that his presence was undeniable. “Come with me, Mother.”

Sleipnir led him back the hall to a different room than the one they had found Selvig in. “Jane said you can lie down in here.”   
  
Loki sighed. He thought about asking if she’d offered or Sleipnir had asked, but he was so tired.   
  
“Jane and the doctor are looking for the point of the Convergence. If they find it, I will wake you.”   
  
“All right,” he murmured wearily. “Thank you, Sleipnir.”   
  
His son lipped at Loki’s hair. “It will be okay, Mama. You’ll see.”

Loki didn’t see how things could ever be okay, not with Thor dead because of him. He didn’t argue with Sleipnir, though, just crawled into the bed and lay down, pulling the blankets up over him.

He vaguely felt Sleipnir nuzzle the back of his neck, and then he was asleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor receives a visitor from some form of his brother in his dreams and does not know what is real and what is dream and what his niece intends with her tricks. Then the Collector sends news.

Thor wasn’t sure when he’d drifted to sleep, but he’d clearly done so with the pillow still over his face, blocking any and all light.

_ “I can’t stand the dark,” _ Loki whispered to him.  _ “It’s so dark in the void between realms, did you know that Thor?” _

Thor shook his head, tried to open his mouth to speak but he couldn’t. There was something heavy pressing on his tongue and holding his lips together. Frantic hands flew up to trace the shape of the seidr dampening muzzle he’d been forced to put on Loki after New York. He tried to move his hands to remove the mask, but they were bound before him now in chains of Dwarven silver and iron - nothing would break them.

He would know, after all. He’d tested them himself before wrapping his baby brother in them to take him home to face judgement.

_ “The Titan was a fan of leaving me in a small, glass box. It was completely dark; no light and no air. Nothing to look at, no one to talk to but myself. It was… worse than anything else I have lived through. I often wished I would not,”  _ Loki said, tracing his fingers gently over Thor’s eyelids and the bridge of his nose. They followed the line of the muzzle where it cut into Thor’s skin on his cheeks, and below to where it pressed into the flesh of his mouth. He could feel the small spikes that were driving themselves through his lips - following the scars that Loki would have already had there.

_ “Do you know how long it took for them to place each stitch?”  _ Thor tried to speak again, to beg his brother to stop, but all he could manage was a kind muffled whine. Loki simply moved behind him and began to untangle his hair, gently tidying the burial braids and replacing the small buds of white clover. Thor let his head hang forward, simply relishing in the soft touches of his brothers clever fingers in his hair.

_ “I remember you pulling them out, big brother. Stitch by stitch. The scratch of the thread and the salt of your tears… it’s a memory that lingers.”  _ The fingers in his hair stilled, and trailed down the back of Thor’s neck, pressing lightly on the arteries and veins there. He twitched, a natural reflex, and Loki laughed quietly.  _ “Fear me not, Thor. I would never deliberately cause you harm.” _

Thor shook his head, wanting desperately to tell Loki that he had  _ never _ feared him, not even when he was blue, when his very soul seemed to bleed ice into the air… Thor had never feared Loki.

But he feared  _ for _ him often.

For all that Loki would turn from him time and time again, would leave Thor behind and push him away - Thor would always wait. No matter what Loki did, he would always be there for him. It mattered not what Loki said; he was Thor’s little brother. His reason for existing. Frigga had placed him into Thor’s arms the day he was brought to Asgard, had told him that this was Loki, and he was  _ Thor’s _ to protect. To love.

And he’d always tried his best.

_ “I never blamed you, Thor. Not really.”  _ He snapped his head up, yanking at the chains holding him down, throwing himself to try and turn, to see his little brother’s face.  _ “Cease, brother. You will harm yourself before you break free. Trust me.” _

He tried to speak again, caring not that each time he tried the spikes in the muzzle keeping him silent were digging deeper into his lips. He wanted to tell Loki that no matter what he did, no matter where he went or how hard he pushed him away, he would always be there for him. That no matter what… he would always,  _ always _ love him. Loki was Thor’s heartbeat.

_ “So often am I called SilverTongue and God of Lies… but never once did you truly doubt me. I may have pulled my tricks on you, Thor, but you were never truly convinced. And when I fell… when I let go… it pained me so greatly to remember the grief on your face, that I feared for my sanity before the Titan even laid a hand upon me.” _

Those gentle fingers were back in his hair then, moving the tidied braids out of the way and combing through the snarls and knots in the loose hair behind his intricate braids. His whole body trembled with the effort to not move, to keep trying to reach out or speak.

_ “Do you think that I grieve for you, Thor?”  _ Thor shook his head, and Loki sighed.  _ “You are a fool. My grief for you is consuming my very being. There is so much unsaid between us…” _

Thor held himself perfectly still. Was this a dream? Was Loki projecting his thoughts? He tried again, wanting to see his little brother just once more.

_ “It is my destiny to see others leave me behind as they go onward to Valhalla, it would seem.” _ Thor strained his neck, twisting and arching to try and see Loki. But he caught no more than a glimpse of long black hair hanging in messy waves and the edge of a red cloak before he was gasping awake, alone in his bed with his braids tidy and new clover woven into them.

He brought a shaking hand up to trace over the space where the muzzle had been sitting, unsurprised when his fingertips came away bloody.

The Midgardians had tales of soul-mates - one person destined for only one other. His mother had often told them a similar story as children, that two brothers with a bond that could transcend death itself would be the ones to rule the Nine Realms and bring peace. For so long Thor had been convinced that she spoke of he and Loki. But Loki had been adamant that such a thing was ridiculous. Thor however, had clung to that tale like a life-raft. It kept him steady, kept his head afloat when so many around him were pressuring him to let go of Loki, to let the trickster keep himself afloat for a change.

Thor wondered now if his mother hadn’t simply been repeating an old tale after all. Wondered if maybe she’d  _ seen _ the two of them, ruling side by side as brothers, perhaps with wives of their own - or perhaps not. Loki had been married before to a mortal woman. Her death had driven him away from Asgard for so long that Thor had begun to worry he may never see him again.

_ “I’ve lost my sunrise,”  _ Loki had whispered to him in the dark of Vanaheim one night, a few hundred years after her passing. Thor had tried to understand, to show Loki his sympathy was genuine, but he’d been young still, and the battlelust was still thrumming in his veins. So he’d simply sighed, and thrust a flask of Dwarven mead at him.

_ “Drink brother, that your grief not weigh down your soul this evening!”  _ Loki had smiled at him, a tremulous and desperately sad little thing, and Thor had felt it like a punch to the gut. Words had never been his strength, and still he could remember the helpless feeling that had washed over him then. An Aesir’s grief was a powerful and deep thing. It was not often they grieved, and very rarely for a mortal. Their lives were like the flickering of a butterfly’s wings in comparison to the lifespan of a God.

But he’d tried. Tried to understand Loki’s grief for this mortal woman he’d loved so desperately. But he knew that his attempts had come across wrong, or uncaring. For all that he tried to help Loki fill the void of her death with adventure and company, Loki had shoved him away at every turn.

He trailed his fingertips over the drying blood on his lips over and over, sitting hunched up in the corner of his small bed. He knew without looking or touching that his braids were back in pristine condition, the small clover blossoms that had been lost or damaged replaced and their magic renewed. There was also no need to check that the hair behind his left ear was still shorn close to his scalp.

Whatever that had been, it had been no ordinary dream.

He was exhausted, but could feel anticipation building. Soon… soon there would be battle, and he could explain his actions to Loki. If he was lucky, he may even avoid being stabbed with one of Loki’s daggers.

Thor sighed. “Hel, my little love, what  _ are _ you plotting?” he muttered and pulled himself up into the corner of his bed, back braced against the wall.

There were very few beings that could physically interfere with a dream, and less again that could interfere with the dreams of a God. Considering that Loki thought him dead and feasting in Valhalla, that list shortened considerably. What his devious little niece was planning, he didn’t know, but he was oddly grateful to her for giving him the small amount of comfort he’d taken from his dream.

Knowing that Loki grieved for him enough that she’d heard it, it soothed an old wound in his heart. Loki was his soul, his heartbeat. His little brother was the lifeblood of his being.

He knew that their relationship would be easily misunderstood or taken for a romantic love by those who didn’t know of the Aesir’s heartpaths. But Loki was his.

He grinned to himself then, a phrase that Tony Stark had used often to describe he and Bruce Banner threading through his thoughts -  _ ‘platonic soulmates, Point Break! There’s love without the, y’know,’  _ Tony had waggled his eyebrows then and grinned,  _ ‘All the fun bits of having fun bits!’   _

Loki was his soulmate in every way, except the romantic. Contrary to Midgardian legends, Thor had very little interest in romance. His dalliance with the Lady Jane had been a fleeting thing that he’d known would never last. He’d cared for her greatly, but not enough or in the right way, to want to give her an apple of Iðunn and bring her to live amongst the Aesir.

Thor thumped his head back against the wall, and finally dragged his hand away from his bloody mouth. He watched the blood on his fingers as it dried in the cool air circulating through the small room with a detached interest.

His mind was firmly fixed on Loki… and his mother. It had been Frigga who had restrained Loki with her seidr while Thor removed the stitches from his clever mouth. He knew she’d never forgiven herself for it. He wondered if she blamed herself for his death in the same way.

There had been nothing she could do to change it. He’d known the very second he saw the blade glinting behind her back that there was no scenario in which he’d live. But he’d do it again.

“Do you truly grieve me, Loki?” Thor stood slowly and stretched, the feel of his burial braids a comforting weight on his shoulders and head. “Or do you simply grieve because Mother grieves?” He sighed and shuffled out to the cockpit. There was less than an hour before he touched down in Greenwich, and perhaps another four before the Convergence began.

He looked out the front of the ship at the rapidly moving sky around him, taking in the bright colours as the washed over his skin. The brilliant reds and bright golden hues mingled with the dark crimson of the blood still on his hand as he held it up to the light.

He wondered then, had he been bloody? Had his body fallen to the ground or had it been caught?

Who had cleaned him and prepared him for burial? Had it been Frigga, with her gentle hands and soft touches? Or perhaps Sif and the Warriors Three?

Who had fired the arrow that set his karve alight?

Would Odin have been so cruel as to deny his brother the chance to say goodbye?

“By the Norns,” he yelled and punched his fist against the glass, relishing in the hairline cracks that formed around it. “This has to  _ stop _ .” He dragged his hands roughly down his face, feeling the catch and pull of the small wounds on his lips and the blood dried into his beard.

He should have healed almost immediately, and yet still,  _ still _ the wounds lingered. Much as Loki’s had. He wondered if he would have scars. Just like the scars that Loki still bore from the threads that Thor had pulled out, scars so carefully covered with layers of illusions.

Never had he allowed himself to get so drawn down into the dark thoughts like this.  _ Never. _ He was stronger than this, stronger than the darkness he felt pulling at his mind now and then. And yet, since Hel had thrust him back into the realm of the living in this broken and scarred body, he’d done almost nothing but wallow and let the darkness drag him down into the depths of the thoughts he had spent so long ignoring.

Thor double checked his coordinates and gave the smeared blood on the glass a half-hearted wipe, doing nothing more than smudge it around more. He walked slowly to the small storage space where his armour was hanging, long since dry from his stop in Norway. Carefully lifting it off the rack he’d hung it on, Thor looked it over thoroughly for any weak spots, and was pleased to see none. He concentrated more on the area over his heart where the sword had struck him, but it was clear of blemishes and damage.

He washed his face and hands free of the blood that was still all over him, and Thor gave his beard a critical once over. He looked much the same as he always did, but… different somehow. There was something new there, something in the way his eyes looked maybe. Thor splashed more cold water over his face and scrubbed harshly at his skin with the towel, ignoring the feeling of the wounds on his lips pulling again.

The armour was almost exactly as he’d left it.

But his cloak was wrong.

Where his was usually a vibrant and royal red all over, now it was the same shade of emerald that Loki so favoured for his own on the inside, and a dark, almost black grey colour on the outside. The rest of his armour was as it should be - golds and burnished browns, his chainmail sleeves and leg platings the same silver as always. But his leathers were changed again. Gone were the familiar browns of his leggings and boots, and in their place the same black that Loki wore.

“What…  _ Hel, _ ” he hissed. “Lass, what are you  _ doing _ !”

**_“Trying to show you that you’re wrong,”_ ** came the whispered reply. Thor hung his head and sighed.

“I understand,” he grit out through clenched teeth, his eyes hot and burning. He was  _ tired _ . He’d  _ died _ and still, still Loki was finding ways to push him away to make him feel… unworthy.

**_“No you don’t, or you wouldn’t be making that face. That’s an awful face.”_ **

“Will you just leave me be, little love? I understand that you’re feeling for your mother and his grief, I do. But it cannot be as bad as you are making it out to be. Hel, I love your mother more than anyone else in all the Nine Realms. But it…” he sighed and lifted his head, wiping at his eyes. “Little love, I understand. But you must  _ stop _ . I did what had to be done. I saved my mother, I have unravelled the universe and rewritten that which was  _ destined _ ,” he spat, and began to roughly jerk his armour on over the linen tunic he wore. He’d thankfully left his lighter linen sleep pants on, and ignored the black leather leggings in favour of tightening his chestplate into place.

**_“But you_** **don’t** ** _understand. You refuse to see that your bond is what will save you. It’s what will save my mama, and you’re ignoring it!”_** A cold breeze blew across the back of his neck, and Thor knew his niece was sighing at him. **_“You cannot defeat Malekith alone, Uncle. When the storms call you… promise me you will listen.”_**

Thor nodded once, and the cool breeze touched his neck again.  _ “ _ **_You’re not unworthy. I just… I want you to be proud of my mama, the way he’s proud of you. And you don’t understand that, Uncle. Not at all. If you did… if you understood even a_ ** **fraction** **_of what mama’s going through, you’d know that the last thing he wants for you to feel is unworthy. If you feel that way… then that’s on you, as the mortals say.”_ **

“Such cheek,” he mumbled and sighed heavily. Hel was right though, much as it galled him to admit. His feelings of unworthiness from Loki stemmed purely from himself. All his life he’d tried to do everything he could to keep Loki safe, to make him happy… and he’d been rebuffed so many times he felt it like a stain on his heart.

But... it had not always been so between them. There had been a time, many of them, when Loki had sought Thor out to share in one bout of mischief or another.  

_ ‘Will you share it with me, big brother? I stole it when Iðunn was busy! Mother says they’re a treat best shared!’  _ A little face, dirty and grinning up at him from beneath messy black hair, those bright green eyes sparkling with mischief.  _ ‘Will you share it with me?’  _ A single, golden apple held tightly in two small hands and Thor had nodded eagerly.

_ ‘Aye Loki!’ _ A dagger pulled from his belt loop, and he’d cut it in half, handing one piece back to Loki and keeping the other for himself.  _ ‘Shall we make a wish, little brother?’ _

_ ‘Lets!’  _ Loki had squirmed in his seat and fidgeted with his apple. Thor had beamed down at him.

_ ‘You already have a wish in mind?’ _

Loki smiled at his apple half and then up at Thor.  _ ‘I do! Let us wish to always be together, big brother. That nothing will ever truly part us. It is like mother says so often… you are my heartbeat, Thor.’ _

_ ‘And you mine, Loki,’ _ he’d replied quietly. They had eaten their stolen spoils, before running from the sound of Iðunn’s angry yelling.

He smiled gently up at the ceiling, the memory of Loki’s first mischief always able to bring a smile to his face. It had taken weeks for Iðunn to stop glaring at them, but Loki’s apology complete with a little bunch of daisies he’d pulled up - roots and all - to give to the Orchard Keeper had done away with most of her anger. It had been around that time that their mother had begun to tell them the tale of the two brothers with a bond that would rule the Nine Realms and bring peace.

Not for the first time, he wondered if they would ever be close enough again to perhaps be that pair.

Thor went through the motions of putting the rest of his armour on slowly, the black leather of his leggings and boots, the green of his cloak catching his eye each time he moved. He ran quick fingers through his hair and moved back to the cockpit, settling into the captain’s chair.

**_“Incoming Video Call. Answering. Please hold.”_ **

He barely had time to blink before Carina’s smiling face was projected onto the screen before him.

_ “Hello Master Thor!”  _ She gave him a small wave, and he smiled tiredly back at her, returning her wave and greeting.  _ “My Master wished for me to contact you when you were on your final approach to land in Midgard,”  _ she said cheerfully.  _ “He is aware that the being known as Ebony Maw has made contact with you. He is also aware that you have extended an alliance of sorts, and wishes for you to know that you have made a very wise move.”  _ Carina shifted about for a moment, and a bright light shone behind her, illuminating a large cage and what looked to be the strewn wreckage of a small ship.

_ “We caught the Titan known as Thanos, after Ebony Maw defected from his side. My Master was the first he contacted, and we acted… swiftly, _ ” she grinned over at the cage, a kind of madness in her eyes for a moment.  _ “We have now in our possession the item known as the Infinity Gauntlet,” _ she turned the camera about so a large golden glove was shown, and Thor frowned.

“That thing has been in my father’s vault for near on 900 years now,” he said, confused. “How…”

Carina shook her head.  _ “Sorry! But what your father had there was a replica. A good one, no mistake, but a replica all the same. The genuine article hadn’t even been created yet. Thanos here went to Niðavellir, and forced the dwarves to create it. It’s purpose is to allow one to wield all 6 of the Infinity Stones.” _

Thor sighed and tipped his head back to rest against the headrest of the seat. “So, how many stones were inside of it?”

_ “Surprisingly, less than we’d thought,” _ Carina said quietly.  _ “He had only one.” _

Thor gave her a curious look at that, and she smiled.  _ “He possessed only the stone known as the Mind Stone. It had been on Midgard, in the scepter he gave to Loki to control the Chitauri army,” _ she waved a hand behind her and another cage lit up beside the one containing Thanos. Inside it sat a Chitauri warrior, it’s armour stripped away and weapons gone. Thanos spat at it when he saw it, and Thor took a moment to examine the Titan.

He was huge, there was no doubt about that. His purple skin and eyes were dull in the harsh lights of the room he was in, but they showed an intelligence belied by his appearance. Bald and dressed in the clothing found underneath battle armour; he was impressive, but not terrifying. Thor had a feeling however, he would have been an impossible opponent with all 6 stones.

_ “We are able to contain him here, Thor Odinson, _ ” Carina’s voice startled him out of his examination of the Titan, and he nodded at her.

“Will your master keep him?” Carina nodded. “Very well. And what of the Mind Stone?”

_ “Well,” _ Carina said slowly.  _ “There is a possibility that you may… require it. I know that it was used to do terrible things, and that your poor brother was also under its thrall, but it may just be needed one day.”  _ She moved out of sight a moment, returning with a small crystal box in her hands. The box glowed and pulsed with a bright yellow light, and she tapped it with one long black fingernail.  _ “It cannot harm anyone inside this box. My Master will keep it safely here on Knowhere until such a time as the Stone’s true wielder requires it,” _ she said with a pointed nod to Thor.

Thor watched as she moved the box out of his sight, and shook his head to clear it. “I will not be the master of these cursed stones,” he warned her, and Carina just smiled at him.

_ “As you say. It’s time now, however, for you to face your demons, Odinson. We wish you luck.” _

The screen went dead, and Thor scruffed an irritated hand through his beard. “I will not wield the stones,” he reaffirmed to himself, and set the ship’s controls back to manual. The focus required for landing and getting himself to a vantage point would keep his mind away from the Infinity Stones.

The last thing he wanted was the kind of unlimited power that the stones would offer him. The ship landed smoothly, on the grassy lawn of what looked to be a library. Thor left the cloaking active, and made one last short circuit around the small ship. He had everything. His oddly coloured armours and cloak were fastened in place, the small daggers he’d found were looped into his belt. Thor ran a hand over his head, lamenting the loss of his helmet and Mjolnir. His hand felt empty and useless.

But he would make do. All that mattered now was retrieving the Aether from Lady Jane and keeping his brother’s cracked mind from shattering completely in its presence.

The Aether lied. The Reality Stone was powerful and dangerous, almost more so than the others they had come into contact with already.  It twisted it’s way into the mind and altered it to see what was feared most. It fed on doubts and untruths. It was deception incarnate in the form of a bloody cloud, neither liquid nor solid as it undulated and moved throughout the air. He’d seen it as it made its way into Lady Jane’s very being. Like a poisonous cloud, it had surrounded her and taken her over. He could only hope that he wasn’t too late to avoid permanent damage to her mind.

Thor left the ship and drew his cloak closer to him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid attention completely, but by walking the leylines to Jane’s apartment, at the least he would remain out of Heimdallr’s sight.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki has a nightmare about Thor but wakes to an old friend. When he goes to pull the Aether from Jane, he discovers, to his horror, exactly what the Aether is.

The galloping thunder of hooves followed him as he waded through thick shadows that dragged at his legs like a bog desperate to suck him down. He could hear the beat of wings around him, and now and then a line of feathers would brush along his face, beat at his hair. The cheerful whinnying of horses - not horses, Pegasi - echoed in the darkness as he caught sight of the glowing doorway he had been seeking.

The bog pulled at his legs but he forced himself onward, stubbornly moving through the thick sludge until the halls beyond the doorway were finally, finally in sight.

Laughter and music met his ears, the sound of feasting and merriment. Loki tried to move through the doorway, but his hand struck against it as though it were a solid wall. He could see through it like luminous glass easily, but he could not pass.

He pressed his palms against the doorway and peered through it, searching for a familiar form. There were so many people here, many of them he knew only from myth, and more whose faces he couldn’t define, so unknown were they. But then he spied the rich red of a cloak and long blond hair and he laughed with a relief that was painful to bear. He had made it. He thought perhaps he had arrived at another hall he was not permitted to enter, but here was his brother, sitting among the other chosen warriors in Valhalla as they drank and laughed and told tales of their own lives.

Thor sat with his back to Loki, a hefty mug on the table beside him.

“Thor!” Loki called through the door.

Thor neither lifted his head nor turned. He didn’t appear to hear Loki at all.

“Thor, please! I need to talk to you!”

The other warriors continued their merrymaking, though Thor didn’t join in. He continued to sit with his back to Loki, utterly deaf to his calls.

“Thor!”

“You don’t belong here.”

Loki turned, startled. A woman in silver armor sat on the back of a Pegasus, the mark of the Valkyrie plainly visible on the inside of her arm.

“This place is for the chosen, and you are not.”

“I know,” Loki said, “I know, but I only need to speak with my brother. Just for a moment. Please!”

The woman regarded him with a cool, disapproving gaze, before she turned the Pegasus toward the hall and stepped easily through the door.

Even reaching as she walked through it, the wall of light would not let him pass. Death did not fall for such simple tricks as that.

The Valkyrie rode her Pegasus over to where Thor was seated and leaned down slightly to speak to him. Despite the noise of the others in their feasting, Loki could hear them perfectly.

“Your brother wishes to speak to you.” She waved toward the door.

Thor turned his head slightly but not enough for Loki to see his face. Only enough that he could see the burial braids remained in his hair, woven with clover. Loki itched to run his fingers over the braids, to slip in bits of vetch so Thor would understand...

Thor turned back around to face away from Loki. “I do not have a brother.”

It would have hurt less for Sleipnir to kick him in the chest. Loki felt the tears hot in his eyes, burning, as he pressed his hands against the light that forbid him entry. “Thor, please! Please!”

“Send him away,” Thor said, and did not bother to turn to look.

“Brother, please!” Loki cried, but the bog had begun to reach out with long, thin arms dripping with black algae. They grabbed at his clothes, wrapped around his arms, his throat, and pulled him down. Loki’s fingers slipped from the golden doorway into Valhalla.

A hand caught his and stopped him falling, and it was like hanging over the Void again, only this time he wasn’t clutching Gungnir in a doubting grip. Thor leaned over the edge of the bog, gripping Loki’s wrist right in his.

“Thor!”

“Come, brother, did you doubt me?” Thor asked with a laugh, as he began to pull him up.

“Never!” He gasped out around his tears. “Never truly, Thor!”

Thor laughed a bright laugh, but it was shadowed by the presence that lurked just behind him. Loki caught the glinting edge of a dagger—

“Thor, behind you!”

—but too late. The dagger plunged into Thor’s back, piercing into his heart, and Loki watched the light go out of his brother’s eyes like the sun dying.

The shadow leaned over Thor, shoving the god of thunder’s body to the ground, and Loki’s own cruel smile bared teeth drenched in blood as his eyes burned bright blue.

"You might want to take the stairs to the left,” the Loki who had murdered Thor said, and kicked him away from the edge.

The hands from the bog wrapped around him and pulled him down, into the blackness, and the darkness of a world without his brother.

* * *

Loki opened his eyes to see the room in Jane Foster’s apartment, where he had fallen asleep, and not the deep trenches of the bog. Tears ran hot down his cheeks to tickle his scalp and fill his ears, but the only sound that escaped him was a soft, trembling whimper.

A soft hand reached out and cupped his cheek and Loki turned his head. A laugh choked out of his throat. He was still dreaming.

“Hello, dear one,” Sigyn said as she wiped away his tears. “It’s been a long time.”

She looked not as she had at the end of her life, grey-haired and weak and weary, but much as she had the day he had met her. Pale, smooth skin, her nose and cheeks covered with freckles, all framed with thick, red-gold hair. Like the sunrise, he had always told her, for his days began and ended with her by his side. She was the summer of his life.

“My sunrise,” he murmured, reaching up to catch her hand.

She tangled their fingers together and kissed his fingertips. Never demure, his Sigyn. She was as fiery as her mane.

“Hello, my fox,” she said softly. “I have missed you.”

“Are you really here? Or am I dreaming?”

Smiling, she leaned down and kissed him softly. Loki closed his eyes as he kissed her back like a thousand times before and forever ago.  
“What does that tell you?”

“That you’ve been practicing.” She hit him on the shoulder. “Oh! It is you! Sigyn, your fists are unmistakable.”

“Oh, you devil!” He caught her hands as she went to smack him again, laughing. “You _would_ remember my fists better.”

“You’re the one who slapped me when you first met me. It’s makes quite the impression.”

“That was your own fault.”

“But well worth it,” he said, bringing her hand to his mouth and kissing her palm. “I have missed you.”

“But what am I doing here?” she teased. She lay down on the bed and tucked herself close to him, lying a hand over his heart. “Sweet Hel could not send your brother to you, but she thought I might be some comfort.”

Loki buried his fingers in the fire of her hair. “How long are you here?”

She glanced toward the window, where the sun was touching the horizon. “Until the sun has set.” She reached up and brushed away his tears.

“You’ll be leaving soon on your heroic quest, so I could not stay longer if I wasn’t called back by the dark.”

“Heroic quest,” he laughed. “Sigyn, you know as well as I do that there is nothing heroic about me.”

Sigyn trailed her fingers over one of his eyebrows. “I know _you,_ my dearest love, and I know your heart.” She lay her head over his arm and studied his face as his fingers trailed over his cheekbones. “Did you know our line carried on? That there are still children in the world who are yours?”

“Are there?” he asked quietly. He was staring at her, memorizing her face.

“Mmhm. I’ve been watching them. Hel lets me keep an eye on our line.” She laughed, a bright sound. “The youngest... she has my eyes, but she has your hair, and _your_ tongue.”

“Clever thing, is she?”

“Oh, do you think you are clever, my fox? I meant only that she sasses everyone who will listen, and a few who do not.”

“Hm... I think you have us mixed up. That sounds like you.”

She laughed until he leaned forward and kissed her, burying his fingers in her hair and holding her close. When he finally did pull away, it was to drag in a shuddering breath. He buried his face in her shoulder.

Sigyn ran her fingers through his hair, her warm hands brushing down his neck and shoulders as he sobbed into her shoulder. “Oh, my love,” she whispered. “I did not wish to cause you still more pain by coming.”

“Any pain is worth having you here for a single moment longer.”

She kissed his head. “I would never want you to suffer. Not even to remain with you longer, as much as I wish to.”

“We didn’t get enough time.”

Sigyn laughed. “My darling fox, there would never be enough time were all the universes to grant us theirs.” Her fingers teased at his hair. “But my love for you is not the sun, because it does not falter as the world turns. It is the steady heartbeat in your chest, and I am there, always.”

Even with his face pressed into her shoulder, he knew the sun was almost beneath the horizon. He stubbornly tightened his arms around her, desperate to hold her there.

“Vali and Narfi send their love, as do their wives and their children, and their children. We are all watching over you, my darling fox, my clever heart.” He sobbed into her shoulder and she kissed his temple. “All my love goes with you, Loki Silvertongue. Do not fear. All will turn out in the end, for you are the hero of your children’s favored tales, and we have faith in you.”

Her felt her form weaken, as though she were formed out of water, and he had the sudden thought of all the things he wanted to tell Thor but would now never have the chance, because he hadn’t done so while his brother was there.

“Sigyn,” he gasped, pulling away to look at her face. “Sigyn, I love you. And the boys. I love you all so much.”

“I know, my heart. And we love you. Always.”

She brushed away the tears from his face with fingers like sunlight, and he watched as the red gleam of dusk surrounded her and she faded out of sight as the sun sank finally beneath the horizon.

Loki sat in bed, staring out at the dark horizon as the tears dripped down his cheeks. He drew a shuddering breath.

“Always, my sunrise.”

Rising from the bed, he wiped at his face as he made his way into the connected bath. It wouldn’t do to look like an absolute disaster when he went out to see Sleipnir and the others. He flicked the light switch on, only to find a towel and washcloth set out on the counter, along with some soap and shampoo.

After all he had done, why were these people being so kind?

He picked up the washcloth with the intent to climbing into the shower, but he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror and froze. Thor’s braid stood out against his dark hair like a swirl of light almost as bright as the Bifrost.

But on the right side of his face, there was a new braid. Smaller than Thor’s, hanging down in front of his ear, it was a mix of colors. His trembling fingers reached up to trail over it, the strands soft beneath his fingers. Even after so many centuries, he still knew the way his sons’ hair felt beneath his fingers. He laughed as he studied it, twisting the braid in his fingers so the colors danced beneath the light. The sunrise red of Sigyn’s hair, Vali’s bright copper, and Narfi’s dark red, like wine.

“Hel,” he whispered, even as the tears ran down his face. He laughed. “Will it stay?”

_“Yes, Mama,”_ Hel’s voice whispered in his ear. _“It will be with you always, like Thor’s.”_

“Thank you, darling. Thank you so much.”

He felt the brush of cool lips on his cheek. _“Love you, Mama. Now get ready. You have a soul to send me.”_

“So I do, sweet girl.”

He stripped himself down and climbed into the shower, letting the pressure of the water beat at his skin, letting it soothe his face, hot from his tears. He washed his hair, careful not to disturb the braids too badly, even knowing that the seidr sewn through them would protect them. He dressed quickly and, looking considerably less like he was about to fall apart, left the bedroom.

Jane and Erik had moved from the couch and weren’t in the living room, but Darcy and Sleipnir were. Loki stared for a moment at his son. The stallion sat on his hindquarters, his many legs splayed around him, and one of his forehooves in Darcy’s hands. As he could tell from Sleipnir’s other, finished hooves, she was using a pile of nail polish to paint his hooves with streaks like a rainbow. His white mane was also sporting thick curls, and Loki saw a curling iron resting on the floor on the other side of Darcy.

He smiled as he watched the young woman very carefully streak Sleipnir’s hooves with purple lacquer, before she pulled out a small bottle of pink. The television behind them came off commercial and the screen was filled with bright colors and music began to play as a small unicorn floated across the screen in a hot air balloon.

“Are you two having fun?”

Sleipnir twisted his head and looked up at him with a cheerful whinny. He held out three of his forelegs for inspection. “Look, Mama! I’m gonna be a pony princess. Aren’t I pretty?”

“Very pretty,” Loki said, crouching down in front of his son to tug on a curl. “I like your hair.”

Sleipnir’s bottom lip jutted out in an impressive pout for a horse. “Jane took away our glitter. I wanna sparkle, Mama.”

Loki’s lips twitched. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Yay!” he and Darcy shouted gleefully, before both of them were distracted by the television. “I want Pinkie Pie to bake _me_ cupcakes,” Darcy said.

Loki slipped out of the room and into the kitchen, where he found Jane and Erik leaning over a single laptop.

Jane looked up as he entered the kitchen and gave him a quick once-over before turning completely and walking over to him. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Saner,” he said, and smirked slightly. No one would ever accuse him of being sane.

She smiled sadly at him and reached out to press a hand to his cheek. She stared into his eyes, looking for something. Loki didn’t give her a chance to find it. After the initial shock at her actions, he stepped backward out of her reach.

Jane paused, hand still raised. “Oh, yes,” she murmured to herself, bringing her hand to curl against her chest. “You wouldn’t.”

Loki tried not to broadcast his anger at the motion. Yes, his brother was dead and he knew humans didn’t mourn as long as Aesir, but did that mean their grief passed so quickly? “I do not feel that is... appropriate, Miss Foster,” he said through clenched teeth.

“You misinterpreted my actions,” she said candidly. “And my relationship with your brother.”

Loki scowled at her. “Don’t lie to _me_ , Miss Foster. My life is made of lies. I’ve grown adept at discovering them.”

She smiled a self-deprecating smile. “Oh, it’s not a lie. I love your brother, but our... fling, if you like, was just that. I know he cared for me, but he was not interested in pursuing our relationship further.” She sighed. “It’s just as well. It would have hurt him terribly to watch me die and go on.”

Loki nodded softly. It _would_ have hurt Thor terribly. The oaf gave everything he had into his emotions - it was why his storms and lightning were so powerful, and so dangerous - and to lose someone he loved as Loki had loved Sigyn might well have destroyed his brother.

Loki had a moment of shame at the thought of his own apparent death and the grief it had no doubt caused Thor. A grief Loki hadn’t been in a position to accept while under Thanos’ thrall, for all that the admittance that Thor had mourned caused him a brief thrill of excitement. He had been remembered. Thor had noticed his absence, as Loki sometimes feared he did not notice his presence.

He had thought - feared - that his life would be like nothing more than footprints in the sands of a beach. Once he had left, the reminder of his presence would be washed away within the day, and no one would even remember him to mourn his passing.

Once the battle had been over and his mind had been his again, he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge Thor’s grief. To be fair, he was still trying to lick his wounds from being a prisoner of Thanos and it was easy to rebuff Thor and push him away. His brother was stubborn and pushed back, always, but he eventually retreated himself.

To lick his own wounds, Loki realized, because each time Loki turned Thor away must have been like a knife to his brother’s chest, until the final one had finally done him in.

Jane’s hand settled on his cheek again, calling him from his thoughts, and this time he did not push her away. She studied his face, staring into his eyes, and he wouldn’t have thought this mortal woman would be able to look at him in a way that made him want to hide from her, but her gaze was almost as penetrating as Frigga’s could be, when she had seen something that told of foretellings and gave her a glimpse of another’s heart.

“He never blamed you, you know,” she said quietly. “He only felt ashamed that he could not give you what you needed.” Her eyes turned sad. “I think he had wanted to be more, to be the person who could help you, but he didn’t know how.”

“More?” Loki whispered, and his laugh was brittle. How could Thor ever think to be more to him, when he was already Loki’s _everything_?

He shook his head and pulled away from her again. “Thor was always a fool,” he said, but there was no bite to it.

“I think everyone is, when it comes to the people we love.” She stepped away from him and turned back to the laptop. “Erik and I found the central point of the Convergence.” She typed something into the computer and the screen shifted to show a fluctuating pattern of lines detailing some sort of rising wave pattern. “It’s in Greenwich.”

Loki had anticipated having to travel further to reach the source, but that wasn’t far from here. He wouldn’t even have to use much power to get there, which was well, considering what he planned to do before he left.

He should have done it already. His grief had twisted his plans out of sorts, and really, he needed to control himself. Thor would be ashamed of him for his weakness, and angry that Jane remained in danger when he could do something about it.

Jane brought a map up on the laptop, then turned to him. “Have you considered calling the Avengers to help?”

Clearly, the Aether was eating away at her mind if she had thought of something so foolish as that. The Avengers would sooner destroy him than Malekith, and with good reason. Loki’s hands were drenched in his brother’s blood.

“This will be more easily accomplished walking among shadows, and that was always my speciality.” He held out his hands. “I have put it off too long already. If you’re ready, I’ll take the Aether from you.”

Jane gave him a shrewd look but didn’t mention anything in regards to his choice about fighting alone. “Will it hurt you?”

_Oh, yes,_ he thought darkly. His mind had already been so badly damaged by the Mind Stone, there was no way the Aether would not sink its claws into the wounds on his heart and tear them asunder. It would hurt terribly.

“I am a god, Jane,” he said, with a smirk. “Really, now, don’t be foolish.”

Neither of them mentioned that Thor had also been a god. It would do no one any good to have her argue with him now. The Aether could not remain within Jane. It was already killing her.

“What do you need me to do?”

“Sit down,” Loki said, pulling out a chair for her. “And... trust me.”

She smiled at him in a way that said that wasn’t as difficult as he made it sound, and Loki would never understand mortals. He could live for longer than Odin and he would never understand them.

Jane sat down and folded her hands in her lap. “Should I... do anything? Focus on it?”

Dread coiled within him. “You can feel it?”

Frowning, she nodded.

He needed to get it out of her now.

“Just try not to move,” Loki said, stepping in front of her. “You’ll feel my magic, if you can feel the Aether, but it won’t harm you.” He pressed his fingertips to her temples, letting his seidr slip in beneath her skin.

“I know.”

No wonder she and Thor had gravitated toward each other. They were exactly alike. Idiots.

His seidr danced green across her skin and flickered among her hair as he sank it inside of her, seeking out the Aether. It wasn’t difficult to find. It very clearly didn’t belong, and when his magic came upon it, it reacted as though he were a threat, lashing out to make him leave. Jane winced beneath his hand and Loki pulled his magic back slightly, grimacing as he let the shields he’d been painstakingly reform around his mind weaken.

He felt the Aether’s curiosity against his magic, saw the way it moved forward, and thought about the Mind Stone that had so ruined him. He let the cracks throughout his mind show and felt more than saw the Aether release it’s hold on Jane.

Loki retreated, pulling his seidr out of her as quickly as he could safely do so.

The Aether followed.

It rose from Jane like a cloud of blood, dark red and terrible. Loki grit his teeth against the impulse to lock down his shields, to teleport away, to run and hide and do anything within his power to not let this thing inside him. He fought to keep his mind open.

The Aether lingered in the air for a moment, swirling around Jane, and then it shot toward Loki. He felt it crawl inside him, dig its filthy tendrils inside his damaged mind, and he bit back a scream of terror. It was an Infinity Stone. The Aether was an Infinity Stone.

He felt his brother’s presence like a shadow at his back, and then Thor’s low, disappointed voice. _“Oh, Loki, what have you done?”_

He shuddered beneath the weight of the knowledge that he was holding yet another Infinity Stone within him. Had he not suffered enough under the Mind Stone’s touch? Would his eyes be red now, instead of the blue that had haunted him before? Red like the blood on his hands. Red like his filthy Jotun eyes.

_“Come now, Loki, we both know your eyes are not filthy because they are the eyes of a Jotun.”_ Loki cringed away from the sound of Odin’s voice. _“It is because they are yours. Truly, I never made a greater mistake than the day I took you from Jötunheimr.”_

_“Can you not send him back, Father?”_ Thor asked. _“Surely we cannot leave him to darken Asgard.”_

“It’s a trick,” he gasped, fingernails digging into his arms. “It’s a trick. I know it is. He would never say such a thing. Thor loves me. He loves me. He’s my brother.”

_“Perhaps I have grown weary, Loki, of being your brother only when you want something. Perhaps I am tired of fighting for you.”_

_“You’re a liar,”_ he hissed, “and I would know. Now leave me be. I have work to do.” He fought to find a memory, any memory of Thor that would exhibit the love he knew his brother had had for him. The scent of an apple orchard and the feel of sticky sweet juices between his fingers as he sat beside Thor, sharing one of Iðunn’s golden apples between them.

_“You are my heartbeat, Thor.”_

_“And you are mine, Loki.”_

Loki focused on that moment, on the solemnity of Thor’s expression as he quietly spoke those words to Loki, all the more powerful because he hadn’t shouted them for all the world to hear. They had been meant for Loki alone. Two brothers whose hearts beat as one.

_“Let us wish to always be together, big brother. That nothing will ever truly part us.”_

Loki gripped the braid twisted out of his and Thor’s hair in a desperate hold. “He is with me even now,” he hissed at the Aether that burned like poison in his mind. “He is never gone from me, because he loves me as I love him. Now be silent, you useless thing. Your lies mean nothing to me. I know what is true!”

The Aether burned within him, made of blood and rage, but it settled down, pulling away into the dark recesses of his mind, no doubt to wait for a better time to strike. Loki would deal with that when the situation arose. He was only relieved to be rid of the thing for now.

Only when he returned his thoughts to the world outside of his mind did he realize he was on his knees, holding himself up by his right arm alone as his left still gripped Thor’s braid tight. Sighing, he released his hold on it and moved into a sitting position on the floor. Jane was crouched next to the chair she had been sitting in, watching him with worried eyes.

He offered her a lopsided grin. “That was unpleasant.”

“It’s cruel,” Jane said quietly. “It shows you things.”

“It lies.”

Jane shook her head. “It didn’t lie to me. It showed me things I knew were true, but that I couldn’t do anything to fix. I wish it had lied.”

Maybe it never lied. Maybe the things it showed you were the terrible truths you didn’t want to admit.

No. No, he knew it was lying. He knew it. Thor loved him. He did.

But there was that terrible feeling of doubt in his chest, a fear that Thor _had_ loved him, but Loki’s repeated assurances that they weren’t brothers, his attempts at pushing Thor away, had finally succeeded. That was why Thor hadn’t visited him in the dungeons. Because he hadn’t cared any longer for the monster that had once been his brother.

He ruthlessly strangled that thought, beating it down beneath a wealth of desperate denial. Thor loved him. He _did_.

“What now?” Jane asked, and he was grateful for the interruption to his wild, raging thoughts.

“Now, I need to speak to my son.” He stepped from the room and into the living room, where Sleipnir and Darcy were loudly singing along to the television show they were watching. An exuberant pink pony was laughing at ghosts in a forest of trees with faces.

He stood for a moment and just watched them, his eldest son and this young woman.

She must have caught his thoughts or felt his eyes on her, because she turned and looked at him. The moment he saw her eyes, he knew.

It seemed no matter how many generations passed, Sigyn’s brown eyes never seemed to fade from the gene pool. They stared out of the face of a young woman who was his granddaughter of a thousand greats or so. A friend of Jane Foster, the woman who had helped his brother find his worth again when he was lost to Loki for what might have been forever.

How strange the world was. Was it mere coincidence that Thor had met one of his descendants during his short time on Midgard, or did the Norns have more planned for Darcy Lewis than they had yet revealed?

“Mama?” Sleipnir studied Loki with bright, intelligent eyes, as green as his own. “Time to go?”

“Actually, Slip, I need you to stay here.” He was aware of Darcy’s eyes sharp on him, and behind him Selvig had risen to his feet. He smiled at his son. “Keep them safe, my sweet boy.”

“Loki, what are you—“

But he teleported away before Jane could finish. His seidr danced along the doors and raced down the outside of the apartment as he left it, sealing the doors and locking them inside. Even if Malekith thought to go after Jane, she and the others would be safe there. He owed them all that. For the help they gave to Thor and now to him, he owed them so much more than that. At the very least, he could protect them from this madness, until it was done.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aether works away at Loki's mind, twisting his perceptions. Thor arrives to Jane's apartment and learns she no longer holds the Aether.

A small step across the branches of Yggdrasil carried him to Greenwich, and the moment he stepped back into the world, he could see the holes in the universe that showed the other realms. It was as desperately beautiful as it was terrifying, to see the realms that existed so far apart just a fall away.

Loki shuddered and looked away from the tear in the universe. His seidr danced green across his flesh and his armor took form around him. He lifted his hand and plucked his helmet from the place he had stored it, sliding it on. The wings sat differently than the horns had and it felt like he was carrying less weight on his shoulders than he had in the past. Or perhaps it was only that there was no shame in what he was doing now, as there had been when his head hung low beneath the weight of his own self-hatred and madness. He was not here for only himself - he was here to avenge his brother.

Although he planned to take great joy in plucking out Malekith’s eyes.

_“What do you expect to accomplish here, Loki?”_ Thor asked from his shoulder. _“Killing Malekith will not undo what has been done. It will not unspeak your words.”_

Loki closed his eyes but he couldn’t shut out the sound of his own voice. _You might want to take the stairs to the left._

“I can’t bring you back, no,” he murmured softly, “but I can avenge you.”

Thor chuckled darkly. _“You?”_

Loki took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I love you, my brother. Even if you are an idiot.” He began walking, feeling out with his seidr for the presence of Malekith. With the Aether burning hot inside him, it wouldn’t be long before the elf made his presence known. Loki looked forward to it immensely.

At his back walked Thor, a constant presence like a sword over his head or a dagger at his spine. This was not his brother, no. He knew that. Thor was a massive man with an even larger presence and he knew how to use both to intimidate, but he was never cruel. It simply wasn’t in his nature.

So no, this thing at his back wasn’t Thor. It only sounded like him. It only spoke to Loki the terrible truths he feared.

It was the Kurse’s blade that killed Thor, yes. His mother had told him that. But it was the blade in Loki’s mouth, as well. His cursed silver tongue.

_You might want to take the stairs to the left._

Perhaps, when this was over, if he was left after the encounter and did not wake to greet his daughter in her halls, he would return to Asgard to pay for this crime. This one… he deserved whatever punishment Odin called up for this crime. Never before, as Loki LieSmith or Loki Silvertongue had he felt so unworthy of his freedom as he did as Loki Kinslayer.

Why had he ever said such a thing? Even believing that the Kursed would be dealt with, why would he ever think to risk the lives of his family?

It could have been anyone. The blade had been destined for Frigga, she had told him, but Thor had somehow interfered and saved her life, only to give his own in the process. And what if she had been the one to have been killed? Would that have been better? Would he hate himself less?

No. No, he’d still hate himself just the same. The difference was that Thor would also hate him, and that was something that Loki could not bear.

_“Do you think he does not hate you, my darling? Dearest, Thor gave up on you long ago.”_

Words of denial tangled in his throat, and before he could speak them, an image formed into his mind like a memory he hadn’t been present for. Thor and Frigga stood together, and seeing Thor there, whole and alive, brought a rush of tears to Loki’s eyes. If only he could reach into the memory and pull Thor from it and back into his life.

“You still see good in him, don't you?” Thor asked, and there was a weary resignation in his tone. “Why do you indulge him with gifts, visits?”

Frigga had some books in her hands, the titles on the spines familiar as ones she had brought him a few days before the attack on the palace.

“I think if you ask his guards, they will tell you I was never there.”

“Mother, Loki is not the boy you once knew. I know you and Father did your best to make him into an Aesir but even you must see you cannot change what he is beneath his illusions.”

“And what is that, Thor? What has your brother become that has you cautioning me as if I were the child?”

“He is a monster. He was always a monster, you simply did not want to see it, but you knew him as a mother. I knew him as he truly was. I wish Father had never brought him from Jötunheimr. It would have been better for all of us if he had been left there to die.”

“You’re lying,” he choked out. “That didn’t happen. Thor w-wouldn’t. H-he…”

_“He loves you?”_ Frigga asked. _“Oh, my sweet boy, is this not what you wanted?”_ He felt the brush of her hand through his hair. _“Were you not trying to convince him for so long that you were not brothers? You brother could always be stubborn, but he learned eventually. Why did you think he never visited you in your cell?”_

He swung around to face her but there was nothing there. His breath heaved in his chest as the tears burned rivers down the skin of his face.

“He’s my brother,” Loki said. “He _is_.”

_“Too late,”_ Thor growled at his back.

Loki whirled around again and his eyes caught the distinct red of Thor’s cloak slipping by him, but when he tried to follow it, Thor wasn’t there. But Loki had just heard him! He _was_ here!

“Thor!” he cried out, turning to look behind him. “Thor, please! Please come back!” He turned, but his brother was nowhere in sight.

“Were you here?” he murmured. “Thor?”

_“Surely you know that no one passes back from Valhalla,”_ a sly voice whispered in his ear. _“Not even the Valkyrie have returned from those halls, so why would he come back for_ you _?”_

Loki shook his head. He didn’t know. He didn’t have anything to give. Apologies that meant nothing. A love that would never be believed.

But he wanted… just once more? Just one more beat of their hearts together? _Thor, please._

_“You’ve broken that bridge, Loki,”_ the hissing voice said, _“and the doors are closed to you. You’ll never see him again.”_

“I didn’t really mean it.”

_“Oh, well that changes things… doesn’t it? Just tell him you didn’t mean it and it will all be right again. It was just a trick, wasn’t it? Just a game. Say you’re sorry and the blade will unpierce his heart. It’s all better now, Loki, really. Because_ **_you didn’t mean it_ **.”

Loki pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes until the pressure was almost unbearable. “Brother… Thor...” He swallowed. He’d heard people pray to him before. He’d taken the path of those prayers back from Erik Selvig earlier that same day. He knew what a prayer sounded like, but how did a person… how did one god pray to another?

“Thor… you must know…” He swallowed hard. “It’s my fault, brother. It’s my fault, and I’m s-so… I never…” He reached up for the horns that normally adorned his helmet, but his fingers only found the metal wings that swept back along the sides. Wings made him think of Thor and his stupid childhood dream of being a Valkyrie. “You’re with the Valkyrie now, Thor. I hope…”

But he had no hopes for Thor, only wishes. Try as his might, he could only selfishly cling to the wish that Thor would return, would find some way back to him. He tried to speak but all that came out was a trembling whine. _Please, Thor, come back. Come back. I need you. I need my heartbeat._

He didn’t know how to push the words so they would reach Thor even in Valhalla. Even this… even the prayers of the gods weren’t enough to let him keep his brother.

Loki sank to the ground. He stared up into the holes in the atmosphere and at the aligning worlds. Thor’s humans were safe and Malekith would find him. There was nothing left to do but wait.

Loki watched as the familiar shape of Asgard moved above him.

_Home,_ he thought, ignoring the tears that slipped down his cheeks. _My home is in Valhalla._

But that was fine. He had a job to do here and he had every intention of sending Malekith to Niflheim tied with a bow. Hel would appreciate the chance to wreak her own vengeance upon the elf’s soul.

He was still sitting there, staring up at the world he had called his home for as long as he could remember, when Malekith finally arrived.

* * *

It looked almost exactly the same. The only noticeable difference was his brother’s seidr that practically bled from the bricks and door as he paused out front, fist raised to knock. Before he could though, the door was flung open and he was sent reeling backwards, the sharp jolts of electricity running through him making his fingers twitch and his eyes water.

 “YOU! Seriously? Goddamn it Asgardian Barbie! You have _any_ idea just how badly we’ve all been sitting here feeling, thinking that your stupid ass is _dead_?!”

 “H-hello, Darcy,” he managed to get out between twitches, the current from her - obviously StarkTech - taser finally dying off.

 “You _jerk_ ,” she hissed at him, and Thor felt the nodes retract from his skin. “You better get inside and explain yourself.”

 Thor nodded and got to his feet, shaking off the last of the lingering effects of the taser, and absorbing the electricity into his body. “Lead the way,” he said graciously, and Darcy just sniffed at him. He followed her inside, and was immediately knocked back down to the floor by a huge weight throwing itself at him.

 “UNCLE THOR!” He caught a vague impression of something sparkly and rainbow coloured flailing around him, before firm - and very wet - licks were being dragged up his face.

 “Sl- _Sleipnir?_ ”

 A high-pitched and happy whinny made his ears ring, and Thor threw his arms around his nephew’s neck. “Tis so good to see you, lad!”

 Thor looked over Sleipnir’s neck at the rest of the room and gave Jane a sheepish smile. “Hello, my Lady Jane,” he said quietly. “I fear if you wish to harm me for allowing the rumours of my death to be so greatly exaggerated, you will have to wait.”

 Jane nodded once, and turned her back to him, choosing to sit back on the couch and wait. Darcy glared at him as she stomped past to sit beside Jane, her hand resting threateningly on her taser. Looking closer at it now, Thor could see the outrageous red and gold design of it, and the words _“Darcy’s Bitch Zapper”_ in glittering writing along the side.

 Definitely StarkTech.

 “Let me up, sweet boy, so that we can talk, hm? There are things I must do quickly.” Sleipnir pressed his face into Thor’s neck one last time before he gracefully got to his feet. Thor was less graceful as he stood also, but he kept one hand firmly on Sleipnir’s neck. It wasn’t often he was permitted to see his beloved nephew. He followed his lead into the room, choosing to stand beside Sleipnir then attempt to sit beside his former lover and her dangerous friend.

 “Well, looks to me like you’ve got a hell of a lot of explaining to do, Thor.”

 “Doctor Selvig! It is wonderful to see you well,” Thor said with a smile. “How - ”

 “Your brother was here, he fixed it. Now spill, Blondie. Why aren’t you dead? We just saw your poor brother fall to _pieces_ here mourning you!”

 Thor stared at them all in turn, before looking to his nephew. “Sleipnir, what do they mean by ‘fall to pieces’? Is there something wrong with Loki?”

 “Uncle Thor,” Sleipnir sighed, and with a movement quicker than even Thor could follow, he bit Thor’s hand hard enough to draw blood. “I love you, but you’re an idiot.”

 Thor sighed. “Aye, I’m hearing that a lot recently,” he muttered.

 “Maybe there’s some truth to it then, Uncle,” Sleipnir quipped.

 “Thor’s unquestionable stupidity aside,” Darcy’s voice was cold and Thor bit down on another sigh. “What the hell is going on here? Why was Loki practically comatose with grief on our floor not even an hour ago, and now you’re _here_? Acting like nothing’s wrong?” Thor bit at his lip as he thought how best to phrase what was happening. There was so much he’d learned in such a short time, that finding a way to say it aloud was harder than he’d thought it would be.

 “There is much at play here,” he said eventually. “I have been… I have been shown and told much since I perished on Asgard. I have no idea how much time has truly passed, for my soul awoke in Niflheim. Your sister is well, Sleipnir,” he said softly to the stallion still standing beside him. Thor traced his other hand over the wounds on his lips again as he explained quickly everything that Tivan had told him about the Titan known as Thanos, the Infinity Stones and Gauntlet, and Ebony Maw appearing before him.

 “There is so much that I have changed with one small action,” he finished. “And I am unsure now as to where to go. But I do know that the Convergence is almost upon us and I must draw the Aether from you, Lady Jane. I will not risk your mind fracturing as my brother’s did.”

 There was a sharp and sudden pain in his left foot then, and Thor grunted in surprise and pain. “Oh, my apologies, Uncle,” Sleipnir drawled. “Tis _ever_ so difficult to keep track of so. Many. Legs.” Each word was punctuated with another stomp to his bruised foot, and Thor sighed.

 “Oh my _God,_ ” Darcy stage-whispered. “Gimme a hoof-bump my pony-bro.”

 Thor chose to ignore the muffled snickers and dull thump of Darcy’s fist connecting with Sleipnir’s hoof behind him.

 “There’s no need for you to draw the Aether, Thor.” He looked over at Jane, and saw her finally, pale and exhausted looking. “Loki… he already took care of it. It wasn’t kind to him… nor to me.”

 The silence then was so sudden and still that Thor could _hear_ the blood freezing in his veins as he asked very softly, _“What.”_

 Jane swallowed nervously and Erik grabbed hold of her hand. Thor could feel the electricity buzzing beneath his skin and felt Sleipnir move subtly away from him, placing his body between the mortals and the God.

  _"_ _What?”_

 “H-he took it,” she repeated in a whisper. “It was destroying me, Thor, and so he took it into himself.”

 Loki… Loki had taken the Reality Stone into his already cracked and broken mind, because _Thor_ hadn’t been there to ensure otherwise.

 It would consume his little brother’s already fragile sanity. Destroy everything good in his mind, devour the memories that made him happy and _twist_ and _ruin_ what it could.

 “How could you let him?” he breathed, feeling the buzzing beneath his skin growing stronger. “How could you _let_ him?”

 Mortals… so selfish and foolish. They would easily sacrifice his brother to spare themselves?

 “Uncle Thor,” Sleipnir’s voice was low and gentle, but Thor was almost too far gone to hear him. It was a static noise in his ears, the only thing he could focus on was his little brother and the stone that would be tearing through his mind. “Uncle, please. You must calm yourself, or I will be forced to do it for you.”

 Lightning skimmed along his skin, danced between his fingers and lit up the braids on his head as he tried, and failed, to calm down. Thor could feel his entire body shaking with rage. How could they so easily have let his very heartbeat give himself away?!

 “Uncle Thor!” He turned barely seeing eyes on his nephew. “Please,” the stallion whispered. “You’re frightening your mortals.”

 “They are not my mortals,” Thor spat. “They have surrendered my brother - your _mother_ \- to madness to save themselves!”

 “Now that’s just bullshit!”

 “Darcy!”

 “No Jane! It _is_ bullshit! We didn’t _let_ him do anything, you arrogant jerk!” Darcy stood up, drawing herself up to her full height. She barely reached Thor’s shoulder, but that didn’t stop her from feeling as though she was looking down at him. He glared at her, the lightning sparking and jumping around him, and she scoffed.

 “What? You’re gonna zap me into dust because _we_ were here for your poor brother? He thought you were _dead_ Thor! We all did! We were _mourning_ you when you walked in the damned door!”

 “That is of no concern to me!” Thor growled, taking a single step forward. But Sleipnir butted his head firmly against his chest and refused to move.

 “No further, Uncle.”

 Thor stopped and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply in and slowly back out until the electricity had retreated to the place inside of him that he knew was where Mjolnir had always been. He felt… wild. Lost. _Angry_. He opened his eyes and bowed, hand clasped above his breastplate and the other tucked at the small of his back.

 “I apologise for my behaviour,” he said politely. “I need you to tell me where Loki has gone, and what he has done.” He straightened up and looked Darcy in the eyes. “Tell me, _Lokidottir_ , tell me where has my brother gone? Where has he gone to find Malekith?”

 Darcy stared him down, refusing to blink or look away, and Thor wondered how it was that he’d not seen the connection there earlier.

 “You’re an asshole,” she said after a moment. “And we’re having some serious words when all this is over. But he’s close. He’s sealed this place and we can’t get out. It’s not exactly going to be hard to find him,” she said sarcastically, and pointed to the window behind him, and Thor spun on his heel to look. “He’s in Greenwich. Literally, just there.”

 He could see the huge gaping tears in the sky, the edges of the universe opening and bleeding through.

 The Convergence had started.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hel arrives to deliver a message to Thor, and Loki greets Malekith with a blade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Trigger warning: Character death.**

“I have to leave.” He grasped Sleipnir’s neck firmly, and thumped their heads together. “I love you, nephew,” he whispered and pressed his lips to the stallions nose. “Be good, keep them safe. I am going to find your mother and bring him home.”

 Sleipnir nodded and moved aside. Thor gave the rest of the group a cursory nod, and moved away.

  _"_ _Oh, I don’t think so, Uncle. Not yet.”_ A cool breeze blew through the room, and Sleipnir whipped his head up.

 “Sister!”

 Hel’s shadowy outline was leaning against the door, an irritated expression on her face. She was in the guise of a young girl again today, black dress in tatters around her and her hair a wild halo of black curls about her face.

  _“You’ve been awful, Uncle Thor,”_ she said quietly. _“You will apologise to them all, and then you will_ **_listen_ ** **.** ”

 “Now you’ve done it, Uncle Thor!” Sleipnir whinnied cheerfully. “You’ve annoyed Hel!”

  _“I surpassed annoyed some time ago, Slip.”_ Hel straightened herself up and walked right up to Thor, poking him firmly in the stomach. _“You need to_ **_listen_ ** **.** ”

 Thor stepped back in shock, and frowned at his little niece. “Listen to what, little love? I have heard all they have to say. And I did apologise,” he muttered petulantly.

  ** _“Listen!”_ **

 There was a feeling similar to ducking under running water, and Thor opened his eyes to look down at his brother. Before he could call out or say a word, he was overwhelmed with the sensation of his lightning moving through him. It raced through his veins and lit up his heart.

 It felt… sad. Desperately, agonisingly lonely and guilty. It burned him and warmed him at the same time. It felt like prayer… but so much _more_. It felt like…

  _"_ _Loki_ ,” he gasped, the emotions pouring into his soul threatening to crush him beneath the strength of them. “By the Norns, _Loki!_ ”

 This was his brother’s pain, his grief and his guilt all at once. There was no beginning, no end. Just constant wave after wave of feelings pushing through him and filling the gap in his soul where Mjolnir should have been. Thor dropped to his knees, a keening whine escaping his chest as he fought down the emotions that didn’t belong to him. So much, too much and all at once.

 Was this how Loki had been feeling everyday?

 Did his heart feel so constantly close to breaking and healing at the same time?

 Thor drew a deep, gasping breath and tried to steady himself. He pushed himself up onto his knees, not realising he’d fallen forward onto his hands at some point. He stood on shaking legs and braced his weight against the tree at his back, and tried to breathe.

 There was a gust of wind and Thor looked over in time to see Malekith’s ship touch down. He watched as Loki looked up from where he was sitting on the ground, saw their mouths move as words he couldn’t hear were exchanged.

 And then Loki blinked in and out of sight, his daggers catching the sunlight as he slashed at Malekith’s throat.

 “Lo- _ki,_ ” his voice was rough, throat rasping as though he’d been screaming for hours. “LOKI!”

 But his words were lost in the sounds of their fighting - the clashing of their blades, in Loki’s teleportation.

 And then Malekith stopped moving. He stood still, and Thor could see the cruel smile on his face as Loki stabbed upwards into thin air.

 “Loki… what?”

 Whatever it was that his brother was seeing, it wasn’t Malekith. He saw Loki say something, but he couldn’t make out the word. The tree at his back trembled and shook as Loki disappeared from sight again, and Thor felt himself flung forward and away from its trunk as the great tree gave a last tremendous shudder and disappeared.

  _"_ _Yggdrasil,”_ Thor said under his breath. The great tree itself had come to brace him as he felt his brother’s prayer tear through him.

 Thor straightened his spine and pushed his shoulders back.

 He was Thor, Odinson and Crown Prince of Asgard. He was Stormbringer and the God of Thunder.

 He was worthy of Mjolnir.

  _He was better than this wallowing, pitiful mess he’d let himself become._

 It was as though an enormous weight had lifted itself from his shoulders, as Thor stood straight and watched his brother abruptly appear back on the ground below his vantage point.

 But something was wrong. Loki’s posture was tense, where before he’d been fluid and graceful. He watched, wondering if it was _now_ that he should move should leap into the fray -

  _“It’s not true!”_ Loki screamed suddenly. _“I know you’re lying so just shut up! I know--”_

Thor felt his stomach drop, as Loki spun and looked frantically around him, his eyes wild and unseeing.

_“Hel!”_

He could only watch as Loki spun to and fro, his arms outstretched and hands grasping at nothing as the red haze of the Aether surrounded his body, thick and inescapable tendrils wrapping itself about him. Thor knew that the stone would have found its way into the cracks and broken pieces of his little brother’s mind, and was feeding on the pain, the torments that he had lived through.

Because Loki was strong, and he was brave and Thor knew he’d suffered through more than anyone should ever have to. He’d had his children torn from him, his wife taken by age and time and his heritage revealed to be a lie. And Thor couldn’t bear to see him suffer, couldn’t stand to hear him beg Odin for mercy for his children… not again.

_“They are only children, please, they haven’t done any harm! All-Father, please! Don’t - don’t take them away!”_

Thor caught sight of something moving behind him and felt his voice and breath catch in his throat.

“No…” His little brother was trapped in the illusion of the Aether, and Malekith was moving closer as Loki desperately begged for Odin to listen, _just listen_ , to show mercy, to show _kindness_.

A fruitless endeavor, same as it had been the first time.

“Behind you,” he whispered, stepping forward unconsciously and reaching out to his brother. Damnit! “Loki, _behind you_!”

He didn’t know if Loki had somehow heard him, or if it was his own battle sense but the tendrils of the Aether lost their grip upon him, and Loki dodged the strike, losing only a wing from his helmet. Thor was impressed when Loki tore the helmet from his head and flung it at Malekith, ducking and stabbing his blade deep into the elf’s thigh when he moved to dodge the helmet.

“Yes! Loki, you can _do_ this,” he cheered under his breath, not daring to raise his voice and potentially throw his brother’s concentration. He would not let his enthusiasm for Loki’s skill cost him his life, but he couldn’t help the cringe and pained hiss when Malekith struck Loki across the mouth and knocked him back.

Loki left his dagger and retreated, and Thor was unsurprised to see that he’d missed the artery when the elf pulled the blade free. Loki always had trouble with anything that wasn’t a left eye, much to Odin’s chagrin.

Malekith hissed something at him, and Loki taunted him back before disappearing from sight again. Thor took the opportunity to move closer, wanting to hear and see. Hel had told him to listen and he’d felt his brother’s prayer. It still sparked in his soul and beneath his skin, the thunder at his call feeling closer than ever.

He shifted once more, finally close enough to hear the gasping and panting of Malekith as his eyes darted about constantly - waiting for Loki to show himself again. There was the telltale shimmering and Malekith pounced, Loki’s dagger tight in his grasp.

Loki’s form shimmered into view and Malekith was waiting.

“What useless tricks,” the elf said, and grabbed the back of Loki’s neck as he drove the dagger upward, right into his heart. “Your brother fought more bravely.” He let go of Loki and the trickster fell to the ground, his red cloak fluttering about him, and didn’t move again.

* * *

There was surprisingly little fanfare. The dark elf landed his ship and climbed out, but there were no troops, no posturing to express his strength. Malekith only walked across the ground to stand a few feet away from Loki, a smirk on his lips.

“Did you tire of carrying around filth, Odinson?”

Loki continued to gaze up at Asgard. He mustered up a smirk for the elf. “Why bother with carrying you? You have legs of your own.”

Malekith’s humor faded. “You joke now, after I have slain the Thunderer - and so easily, too? Are you mad?”

_“Is it madness, Loki?”_ Thor asked behind him.

Loki’s mouth split into a grin. “It is. Such madness.” He lowered his head to face Malekith directly. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve a gift for you.” He teleported right in front of the elf and slashed across his throat with his dagger.

The elf blocked his strike with a swing of his own blade, forcing Loki to duck. His other arm lashed out and his blade skittered uselessly across Malekith’s armor. He dodged the slash of the elf’s blade aimed for his face and flickered away.

“You think to best me?” Malekith demanded. “You? When your brother fell before me?”

Loki chuckled. “I see he didn’t go quietly. Lightning suits you. Your face is almost bearable now.”

The elf lunged for him, dagger blade moving through the air at speeds almost too fast for Loki to keep ahead of. His own strikes lessened as he was forced to continue to dodge.

Even with one blade, Malekith was better than he was.

“Give me the Aether and I will let you live, filth.”

“And lose my dancing partner? You ask too much.” He dodged Malekith’s strike, slipping among the branches of Yggdrasil as he moved around the elf, and came out behind him. He swung his blade upward and into the elf’s lower back, through the armor and deep into flesh.

He grabbed the elf’s shoulder and dug the knife in deeper as he barked a harsh laugh into his ear. “For Thor,” he growled.

“Loki?”

His mouth snapped shut and his gaze met his mother’s wide eyes. He looked at the hand that gripped her shoulder and then down, at the one that held the handle of the knife he’d thrust into her stomach.

Loki dropped his blade and staggered backward, staring in horror at the blood on his hands. He looked back up at her. “Mother?”

Malekith surged forward, the image of Frigga wisping away like fog, and the elf’s dagger slashed downward. Loki only avoided being torn in half by his quick leap backward, but the sharp blade still ripped through his leathers, burning a line across his chest where it tore through the skin.

He slipped away, stood among the branches of Yggdrasil to catch his breath, but the Convergence caused the great tree to tremble and his footing wasn’t sound enough to remain there. Soon, he might not be able to move among the branches at all, or else risk falling into the Void again.

He slipped back into the world, holding his remaining dagger in hand. He didn’t know where his other had gone--

_“It’s with Mother and I in Valhalla, Loki,”_ Thor growled behind him. _“Who will you send us next?”_

“It’s not true!” he screamed. “I know you’re lying so just shut up! I know--”

“MAMA!” Hel screamed behind him and he spun around to see her there, small and frightened in her tattered black dress, as long arms made of dripping tar dragged her down to Niflheim.

“Hel!” he screamed, rushing toward her. She turned into smoke as he reached out to grab her hand and he staggered to keep from falling to the dirt.

“Mother!” Fenrisulfr howled, his cries echoing from his prison on the island Loki was barred from entering. “Mother, please! What have I done wrong?”

“Mama, don’t let him!” Jörmungandr cried, as Odin threw him down to Midgard, much as he would later throw Thor, mortal and weak and so very lost to Loki. “Mama, I’m scared!”

“It’ll be okay, Mama,” Sleipnir whispered from beneath the heavy weight of the saddle. “It doesn’t hurt.”

_“Behind you,”_ came the whisper, almost inaudible beneath the cries of his children and his own echoing pleas for Odin to show mercy, that they were only _children_ , please, they hadn’t done any harm, please don’t take them away. _“Loki, behind you!”_

He ducked and the blade struck the wings of his helmet rather than the back of his neck. The metal of the helmet rang in his ears, making his vision blur, and Loki grabbed the edge of one of the wings and ripped it over his head. He spun and threw the helmet as hard as he could at Malekith. When the elf ducked to avoid it, Loki stabbed his dagger high on the elf’s thigh.

Malekith screamed in pain and rage. His arm came up and caught Loki across the jaw, the blade grazing a line across his temple. His teeth snapped together with a click that bit into the edge of his tongue and Loki abandoned his dagger to retreat, tasting blood in his mouth.

The elf grabbed Loki’s dagger and ripped it from his leg, and Loki was disappointed to see he had missed the femoral artery. He always had trouble with that one. He prefered to go for their eyes. Usually the left one. It irritated Odin.

“The Aether,” Malekith hissed, flinging away Loki’s dagger.

“Your head,” Loki snarled back, catching sight of his dagger out of his peripheral vision.

Malekith laughed. “With what blade?”

“The one I keep behind my teeth.” He leapt into Yggdrasil’s branches and ran.

She trembled beneath him, her limbs quaking, and he had to grasp at the thick bark and stop to steady himself as he moved, to keep from falling off. He leapt back into the world.

Malekith was waiting for him, with Loki’s dagger in his hand.

“What useless tricks,” the elf said, and grabbed the back of Loki’s neck as he drove the dagger upward, right into his heart. “Your brother fought more bravely,” he said, and twisted the knife, “but in the end, you all die just the same.” He released Loki and the god of mischief dropped to the ground amidst his cloak of red and didn’t move again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor's rage is unstoppable and Malekith gets what's coming to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for character death.

His seidr danced along his skin as Loki sidestepped his copy. His own form bent against the light, and he moved around Malekith, invisible. He watched impassively as the copy he had crafted with his seidr was stabbed through the heart and dropped to the ground without ceremony.

He needed a blade.

He needed a  _ weapon _ .

He needed--

The braid that lay against his neck trembled with magic. Loki felt the chill of it, almost as cold as the Casket, press against his neck.

No. Not the braid.

He reached up a hand and touched the circle that bound the braid, the very end of Mjolnir’s handle. It was covered in ice, so cold it would have burned someone who wasn’t Jotun, and Loki could feel it overpowering the illusion that made him appear Aesir, even as it left his invisibility in check.

_ Mjolnir? _

He closed his hand over the shard of metal and felt something snap into place in his mind, like a second presence, but  _ nothing _ like the Mind Stone had been. Nothing near so cruel as the Aether. This was cool and gentle, like water lapping at his heels and the press of a kiss against his cheek.

The shard slipped from his braid, leaving behind a trail of ice that bound it together, and Loki tightened his hand around it. He watched as light swept around his closed fist, shards of silver that shone like starlight.

Like the heart of the star from which Mjolnir had been made.

Light burst from between his fingers as the shards surged together, reforming.

Not into a hammer. Long and thin, the silver of its starlight blade glowing the ethereal Jotun blue of Thor’s eyes, the dagger fit perfectly in Loki’s hand, as though it had been made just for him. As though it had been waiting for him.

That place in his mind where Mjolnir sat now purred like a cat against his consciousness and he heard a single word echo from the depths of the distant universe from which her star had fallen.

_ Worthy. _

* * *

Thor felt the bile rise in his throat seconds before he turned his head to be sick on the ground by his feet.

No.

_ No. _

It wasn’t… it wasn’t possible.

Thor had seen him, his movements graceful and practised. Loki was skilled with his blade, with his seidr. He couldn’t…

Loki…

“NO!” Thor screamed, his voice lost to the rumbling of the thunder overhead. He didn’t see the sky darken, nor the lightning as it cracked and wove across the sky. He didn’t see the odd shimmering that came and went behind Malekith.

All he felt was  _ rage _ .

_ “ _ **_MALEKITH!”_ ** His voice was the thunder now, and the lightning forced itself from deep within him, his skin and eyes glowing a bright electric blue as he leapt from his watching place, lightning arcing and skittering across the ground before him.

He  _ was _ the storm and he would purge the elf’s existence from the very fabric of the universe. He would pull on his threads and burn them away. There would be nothing left.

“You,” he whispered, landing before the elf, eyes glowing and hands clenched at his sides. “You dare to take my brother from me!” Thor took a step forward, and felt the ground shake beneath his feet. “You have twice now dared to touch my family,” another step and the ground cracked before him, the pressure of his rage pushing the Thunder God to the very edge of his limit. “I will  _ destroy _ you.”

There was a whisper of something that brushed against him, something as cold as the deepest winter but gentler, and Thor struggled for a brief moment not to turn into it. It was not for him, not this time.

He was beyond the gentle call of the dying star.

He needed…  _ power _ . A weapon worthy of a King to strike down the foe who would dare to touch his family.

Odin was no longer worthy. He had broken apart Loki’s mind and heart, and ignored the desperate pleas of a mother who just wanted to raise his children.

_ “I call you, Nornir, to hear my call and answer me,” _ he said, rage and agony keeping his voice calm and steady, his tone quiet for all he wanted to scream and yell.  _ “You will give to me that which I seek.” _

There was a pause, a heaviness to the air as Thor stood and stared at Malekith, the elf frozen in place with his hands outstretched over Loki’s corpse to pull the power of the Aether from him.

“Remove your hands,” he took another step and thrust a hand out at Malekith, his lightning obeying as easily as if he’d had Mjolnir in his grasp, sending Malekith hurtling backwards into the ground.

He could feel a shifting in his being as he looked up and saw Asgard above him; golden, gleaming and suddenly so empty. What good was a home without Loki?

Loki was his home, and Loki was now with Hel.

His hands burned, his head pounded and the lightning arced out from him in increasingly large bolts as Thor fell to his knees then, the weight of his grief threatening to crush him.

_ ‘Stand, Odinson, and receive your Throne.’ _

The voices were everywhere and nowhere, inside of his mind and all around his body. Thor dragged himself up, onto suddenly shaky legs and stood firm. Malekith was stirring, attempting to stand, and Thor - acting on an instinct he didn’t understand - flung his left hand out, not surprised in the least when Gungnir materialised in his hand.

He turned his gaze back up to Asgard, floating in the open space above him and watched as it trembled. He heard the distant call of the guards and of his mother’s voice carrying across the void to him.

Asgard was  _ his _ .

Malekith’s head would be his first Konungur sigur.

Freeing his niece and nephews would be his second.

But for now… Thor dropped his gaze back to Malekith’s slowly rising form, and shifted Gungnir in his hand. It fit him better than Mjolnir ever had, it’s weight comforting. It sang softly to his soul, the spaces inside of him that prayer and Mjolnir had filled suddenly overfull. He was no longer a river of power - he was an ocean. A never-ending storm.

“I am Thor Odinson, King of Asgard,” his voice boomed like the thunder and echoed in the crack of the lightning strikes. “And today you have dared to take my heartbeat from me.” Another step forward towards Malekith, and he felt pleasure rip through him at the fear on the Dark Elf’s face. “I cannot abide this,” Thor continued. “And so, you will die.”

* * *

The harsh boom of thunder tore Loki’s eyes away from Mjolnir’s new shape. He glanced up to see thick black clouds converging above them, blocking out his view of Asgard and the other worlds as the sky was blanketed in angry shadows.

The thunder cracked so loudly his ears rang in protest and Loki frowned at the crackling streaks of white and blue electricity that raged through the clouds. This wasn’t Mjolnir, though he could still feel the hum of lightning within her, like the burn of static and his brother’s heart against his palm. The lightning that shattered the sky, however, did not come from her, and it came on too quickly to be a storm natural to Midgard. He did not even know if they would still have storms or if they would be bereft of them, as Asgard would be.

The thunder rolled, low and deep, and Loki saw the streak of lightning rip down from the clouds. It struck ground with an explosive sound, and then the thunder was raging all around him, growing in force. He could feel it under his skin, making the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stand on end. It nudged at his seidr, almost playfully, almost like a hand clapping on his shoulder, almost like being home. The storm vibrated in his hand from Mjolnir, and in his chest, and he closed his eyes as the rain began, his face turned up to the sky.

It was almost like having Thor back.

_ “ _ **_MALEKITH!”_ **

Loki dropped his head, his eyes snapping open at the sound of his brother’s voice, the familiarity almost lost beneath the rage in it and the crashing storm in the sky. But it was Thor. It was Thor storming across the ground toward Malekith, lightning surging over his skin like he had been formed from the storms themselves.

It was like being punched in the gut. Loki could only stare at his brother, hope and denial and terror waging a war within his chest. He could see the burial braids in Thor’s hair and the clover within them, and this was not how he would choose to see his brother. If he were to choose how he would imagine Thor there, it would be as he had been during his best times, his hair loose, Mjolnir in his hand, exuberant in his joy of battle.

But this here was like Thor back as a revenant, burial braids in his hair, the lightning raging through him as he faced the creature that had aided in his death. Was that was this was? Or was it the Aether again, sinking its teeth into Loki’s mind and giving him what he wanted but not as he would wish it? Was this real? Or just a terrible illusion meant to distract him?

He could feel the storm around him, and deeper than that, a throbbing, blazing magic that seemed to scream from the depths of the world. The air thickened with the magic, heavy around him, the storm low overhead.

How much of this was real? If he went to his brother, would Thor vanish into smoke at his touch? Or would he turn on Loki as his killer?

_ You might want to take the stairs to the left. _

He saw Thor fall to his knees and realized it didn’t matter. Real or not, Loki could no more stand there and do nothing than he could put his blade through Thor’s chest himself.

He gripped the hilt of Mjolnir tight in a sweaty hand and moved toward Malekith as the elf pushed himself to his feet, his armor smoking from the strike that had sent him crashing to the ground. The lightning had been real.

Did that mean his brother was?

Ymir, please let him be real. Loki thought he might give anything.

Something shifted… like a snake sloughing its skin and things snapped into a rightness that Loki had not known wasn’t present. His seidr sang within him and Mjolnir hummed in his hand as a flash of light caught his eyes and he turned to see Gungnir in his brother’s hand.

Thor was speaking to Malekith, but Loki couldn’t hear the words over the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

Gungnir? Gungnir in Thor’s hands, no less. He might have once looked upon Thor’s coronation as a thing to be feared, for his brother so rarely  _ thought _ before he acted, but that had changed after Odin had banished him to Midgard. Loki was not even certain it was entirely because of his time as a mortal, but simply  _ being banished _ . Thor, who had ever been the favored son among the people and especially among Odin, had finally had the All-Father turn against him. Loki knew that Thor had be aware of the cruelties caused to him, but he wasn’t sure Thor always  _ saw _ . But he had then, when finally Odin’s cruel eye had turned on him.

And then… Loki’s madness, terrible and rending. He had torn himself apart, trying to rip out the part of him that was the monster, and he had only seen Thor as an enemy when now he understood that Thor had been trying to keep him from destroying himself. Because Loki had always  _ been _ Jotun - knowing or not knowing didn’t change that - and Thor had loved him, Loki knew that. He wouldn’t have wanted to lose his brother, but Loki had been determined to rid himself and Asgard of the monsters that they had learned of as children, the ones they hid from at night. The one he had seen every time he looked in a mirror, until he could not bear another moment with Jötunheimr still on the World Tree.

Odin denying him praise for doing what so many of the Aesir had claimed should have been done - Jötunheimr wiped off the map, the beasts finally put down for good - had been the final straw. He could no longer bear all of the lies.

And then Thanos. And then the battle where his mind was trapped within a cage of raging blue that twisted his thoughts and made everyone an enemy. Only to be taken back to Asgard by his brother and caged. Caged like an animal by the man he’d called his father for  _ so long _ . A man he had loved and respected as king, until that spear had been used to pass judgment on his children. Until his lips had been sewn together in front of all the Aesir, watching as though it were a show. Until love hadn’t been enough and respect had been lost and the spear was a thing to fear so long as it was held in the All-Father’s hand.

But in Thor’s…

If this was Thor, truly Thor, then Loki would have nothing to fear from Gungnir, as he had nothing to fear from his brother. His heartbeat. His reason for being and staying and fighting.

“Are you real?” he whispered, but his voice was lost in the storm that raged around them, and he could only stare as Thor advanced on the visibly terrified Malekith with Gungnir in his hand, the golden spear crackling with blue-white lightning. The same light that burned in Thor’s eyes, crackling around his head like a crown.

Malekith was the first to attack, leaping forward with his dagger and a scream of fearful rage. Loki let out a hiss of fury.

This níðingr dared to attack his brother? He dared to try and take his heartbeat from him again?

Mjolnir burned in his hand, the tremble of lightning throbbing through his bones and the ice that misted from the blade twisting up his arm, turning the pale flesh its natural blue. It hungered, to strike, to devour, and Loki would not be the one to deny her. If she was thirsty, then Loki would let her drink.

* * *

He stepped forward slowly, Gungnir raised before him, and stared down at the elf. There was a moment, a brief moment, when Thor thought simply to impale the wretch upon Gungnir and be done; but Malekith threw himself up from the ground with Loki’s dagger in his hand and a scream of rage.

Did this fool think he would best Thor again... with a  _ dagger _ ?

He swung Gungnir and easily blocked the strike, turning and using the momentum to carry himself and his attack forwards as Malekith leapt away from the spear’s sharpened end. The spear continued past him, and Thor grunted with the effort of stopping and turning to attack again. He knew he’d left his side open, the spear not a weapon he’d often trained with, but was hopeful he could move before the dagger he could barely see made contact.

And then out of nowhere… Loki was ducking beneath the spear’s long shaft, his teeth bared and a growl coming from his chest as he wielded a dagger that felt both new and familiar to Thor.

_ Mjolnir _ .

He knew it as instantly as he knew to draw his next breath, or that Loki was alive again.

Had he perhaps also struck a deal with Hel?

Or… had his brother simply used his mischief and knowledge of seidr to block his lifeforce so completely that even Thor had felt it in his soul?

A scream from Malekith brought him back to his senses, and he saw Loki’s blade slipping through the elf’s armour like it was nothing more than water or butter. Malekith shrieked again and brought his dagger down in a swinging arc to strike at Loki’s face, but Thor was faster. He brought Gungnir up in one fluid movement and cut through the armour on Malekith’s chest, sending a chunk of the golden metal to the ground, as he followed through with the spear this time, learning already to not stop or hesitate.

Malekith twisted as he fell, driving the dagger he still held forwards as he moved, and Thor saw it nearing his eye. A quick turn of his head, followed by his shoulders moving and the blade moved harmlessly past him.

Loki gave a scream of pure  _ rage _ , and Thor watched in awe as his little brother bent Mjolnir’s power to his will and the blade responded in kind. Ice, white and as cold as the plains of Jötunheimr, crawled along her as Loki met Malekith’s blade with a resounding clash. The Dark Elf’s blade flashed, and Thor saw the skin on his arm turning black and blue as the ice moved up his flesh, freezing and burning its path. Malekith tried to raise his blade again, but only the frostbite keeping his hand clenched stopped the blade from falling to the ground.

His arm was useless.

Thor could feel his lightning building, could hear the constant rumbling in the sky growing louder and harsher as the ground beneath their feet vibrated with every rolling crash. Gungnir was  _ glowing _ with his lightning, reacting to his power in a way he’d never seen it do for the All-Father.

He was in perfect control, and he was the storm.

* * *

He neither noticed nor cared for the way the grass froze beneath his feet or the chill that filled the air, turning the heavy rain to sleet. Thor swung Gungnir, blocking Malekith’s attack, forcing the elf to retreat from the spear’s long reach. Thor slashed the weapon through the air, but Malekith leapt away from the bladed end, only rushing in at Thor as it passed beyond him, dagger raised to strike where Thor couldn’t defend with the spear.

Loki ducked beneath Gungnir’s swing, baring his teeth as he came up, and he let the invisibility that hid his form fade as he brought Mjolnir to bear. He saw Malekith’s eyes widen, the sudden realization at the trick, and then Mjolnir’s blade slid through the elf’s armor as easily as cutting through water.

Malekith screamed and brought his dagger down at Loki’s face, but Thor was there, and Gungnir’s bladed tip cut through the armor across Malekith’s chest, sending a chuck of the golden breastplate clattering to the ground. The elf twisted away from them, slashing out with his dagger as he retreated. Thor dodged the blade as it reached for his eye, and Loki rushed forward with a scream of fury, Mjolnir blazing white with ice as her own rage mounted.

She met Malekith’s blade with a burst of cold that sent ice tearing up the dark elf’s arm, turning the skin blue and black. Malekith howled and the dagger trembled in his hand, the arm numbed with Mjolnir’s bite. The elf tried to raise the blade, but it only remained in his hand because it had been frozen there.

“Now you die,” Loki snarled, and thrust Mjolnir’s blade hard into Malekith’s side, between his ribs.

“Loki!” Thor snapped behind him, and Loki ducked away, pulling Mjolnir out and leaping onto a branch of Yggdrasil as lightning surged around Gungnir. He raced along the branch of the World Tree, away from Malekith, and behind his brother, stepping back into the world just as Thor flung Gungnir.

* * *

Thor could hear the gurgle of the blood welling around it, but knew immediately that Loki had missed his mark. The blade had skittered off a rib and missed the elf’s heart.

“Loki!” Thor snapped, and was pleased when Loki didn’t hesitate, simply pulling Mjolnir free and vanishing from his sight.

Gungnir would never miss.

Thor threw it with all his strength, with all his power and all of his rage. The spear glowed and crackled with lightning, the thunder hit a new climax of sound and Gungnir struck true.

The hole made by it’s blade moments before served now as a target directly to Malekith’s heart.

The elf fell, and Thor watched as though it were happening through a dirty window - it felt slow, and blurry. He watched the creature hit the ground, his chest smoking where the lightning had seared his heart. Thor stood still, waiting. The Dark Elves were notoriously hard to kill, and he wasn’t sure that Malekith wouldn’t suddenly spring back up, ready to fight again. But the corpse didn’t move, and Thor let himself take a breath. He smelt only the charred wreck of the body before him, the faint taste of ozone from his lightning and the rain in the air as it eased off to a fine mist.

Thor hadn’t even noticed it falling.

* * *

Loki glanced to his right. Thor stood just a little in front of him, faced toward Malekith’s body yet. No doubt waiting, as part of Loki was waiting, for the elf to rise, for another to attack. But there was only the smell of charred flesh and the thunder, rumbling softly in the sky as the storm dispersed, the warming rain easing to a mist in the air. Not gone yet, which was just as well. Loki could blame the tears in his eyes on the storm.

He opened his mouth to call out his brother’s name, but his voice failed him. Thor stood with his back to him, his cloak falling around his shoulders, hair still done in burial braids, and Loki was reminded of staring through the doorway to Valhalla at a brother who would not answer. He swallowed a whimper and took a step backward, contemplated leaping onto a branch of the World Tree and simply running until he no longer could, but he couldn’t make his legs move. He couldn’t make himself move any further away from Thor than he already stood.

_ Are you real?  _ he wanted to ask.  _ Please be real. Please be here. _

_ Please still be mine, brother. _

* * *

He stepped forwards and yanked Gungnir from the still smoking hole it had left in Malekith’s chest and wiped it clean on his cloak. He sighed and turned to face his brother.

Loki had a panicked look on his face, pale and frightened and Thor knew he was seconds from fleeing. So he did the only thing he knew he could do.

He strode forward and drew his brother into his arms. Thor pressed his face into Loki’s hair and breathed in deeply.

“Hello, little brother,” he whispered.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor comforts his brother as Loki breaks down in his arms and makes a decision that will change both of their futures.

Thor walked away from him and Loki actually staggered forward a couple steps, his whole chest aching at the thought of his brother just… walking away. But then Thor was grasping the handle of Gungnir and cleaning the blade off and Loki realized he hadn’t been leaving. Only, when he turned to Loki with a sigh, it was almost worse, because this was it. If Thor was just the Aether’s tricks, he’d turn to mist just like what was left of the rain and that would be the end of Loki, he was certain. He could not bear to lose his brother  _ again _ .

So would it not be better to run? Would it not be better to leave and never risk losing Thor? To know, even in denial, that he was here and alive? Better than having him vanish in Loki’s arms.

Only there were so many things he needed to say. So many things he needed for Thor to  _ know _ . Things he hadn’t said before and then it had been too late and could he really face that pain again - all the words within him trying to find a way out but having nowhere to go?

He didn’t know which was worse - losing Thor, or losing a chance he might have for only a moment.

Before he could make up his mind, Thor was striding toward him. Loki flinched away from his hands, but they grabbed hold of him and they were there, they didn’t fade away, they were  _ there _ .

Thor pulled him close and buried his face in Loki’s hair and he could only stand there, shivering as familiar arms held him close.

Loki’s arms wrapped around Thor tentatively, his fingers curling in his brother's cape, and he drew in a shuddering breath.

“Hello, little brother.”

_ Brother. He was still… _

Loki sobbed hard and buried his face in the hollow of Thor’s throat. He tried to strangle his grief - he was a prince, damnit! He shouldn’t be acting like a child! But he couldn’t stop his tears, or the sobs that choked out of him, or his brother’s name on his lips over and over, because he was  _ here _ and he’d called Loki  _ brother _ and he was  _ real _ .

He was real.

* * *

**** He could feel Loki’s breath catch, and his tears start, and Thor felt his heart clench. He pressed a firm kiss to Loki’s head, and brought his hand up to cup the back of his head, letting Loki push his face further into his neck as he sobbed. The small, broken voice stuttering his name out over and over was breaking his heart.

“Steady, Loki,” he said softly, and let Gungnir go, trusting that the spear wouldn’t fall. He was pleased to see it right itself, the point digging firm into the soft ground as he pulled Loki in closer. “I am here, and you are not trapped within the Aether anymore.”

Loki’s fingers twitched and clenched in his cape, and Thor sighed softly.

Just how badly had his death hurt him?

Loki was shaking his head, mouthing his name over and over against the skin of his neck, and Thor felt guilt like he’d never experienced before threatening to consume him.

“Loki, I am  _ here _ .”

Thor tightened his hold on Loki again, refusing to give even an inch of space to him, afraid that his little brother would flee, and he would never see him again. There was too much now, too much between them and too much waiting for them that Thor knew he could never hope to face it all on his own. He needed Loki. Even if Loki ran after they’d returned to Asgard, at least he would have this moment, this memory, that Loki had maybe loved him too.

* * *

**** His mind was bursting in a million different directions at once and he couldn’t focus. Thor was  _ here _ . He was  _ real _ . He was holding Loki like he didn’t want to let go and Loki hoped he never did. He felt like his heart was beating for the first time since Frigga had told him Thor was dead. His fingers ached to rip the clover from Thor’s hair, to remove the burial braids, to erase that they had ever been, but he couldn’t make his hands unclench from where they grasped Thor’s cloak. The hand at the back of his head was warm and thrummed with the power of a thunderstorm and Loki had to swallow a few times before he was able to pull his face from Thor’s throat.

Rather than remove his hand, Thor just lowered his hand to rest on the back of Loki’s neck, and the simple action nearly undid him. He opened his mouth to speak but he couldn’t make himself speak. He pressed his forehead against Thor’s shoulder and breathed, trying to work up the strength to say what he needed to.

“I…”  _ I love you. I’m sorry. I can’t bear if you leave me again. I don’t want to ever let go. I didn’t mean it when I said you weren’t my brother. I never meant it.  _ “Thor,” he whispered. “Don’t…”

_ Don’t be dead. Don’t go. Don’t stop fighting for me. Don’t let go of me. _

“Brother,” he choked out, tugging on Thor’s cloak to try and pull him impossibly closer. Pull him somewhere inside of Loki where he would never be taken from him again. “Please.”

* * *

He held tightly to Loki, refusing to relinquish his grip even when his brother pulled his face away. He simply shifted his hand from his head to his neck, and kept his other tight on Loki’s thin waist. He watched Loki try to speak, before letting his head fall forward to brace on Thor’s shoulder.

The temptation to say something,  _ anything _ , to try and offer him some measure of comfort was overwhelming, but Thor bit his tongue. Loki was working through something within himself, and Thor knew his little brother well enough to know that when he could, he would speak again.

“I…” Thor gave him a small smile, trying to encourage him to simply  _ speak,  _ hoping that Loki would know he was smiling at him even if he couldn’t see it with his face hidden in Thor’s armour.

“Thor,” Loki whispered, and Thor felt his stomach churn at the absolute anguish in his voice. “Don’t…”

Thor licked his suddenly dry lips and tightened his hold on Loki’s neck and waist just a little more. He knew that there would be marks there when he let go, and didn’t care. His brother was hurting, was  _ grieving _ him still, though they stood together, closer than most mortal lovers.

“Brother,” Loki’s voice was a haggard, rough sounding thing, and Thor could feel him tugging on his cloak to try and pull him impossibly closer. “Please.”

Thor sighed again, and hid his face back in Loki’s damp curls, the faint lingering trace of ozone and magic that always clung to his brother, comforting his heart.

“Little Loki,” he said softly, and felt his brother’s fingers clench in his cloak, a huge tremor running through him. Thor stroked his hand gently up and down his brother’s spine and hushed him quietly. “I am here, and I will never leave you, do you hear me brother? There is not a force anywhere in the Universe that will take my heartbeat from me again.”

It would seem odd to anyone who stood outside from them and watched - more like lost lovers reuniting than two brothers, but Thor cared not for any mortal opinions. Affection and love were to be freely given and taken, and all he wanted now was to comfort the one he’d hurt so grievously.

“Ég elska þig, bróðir,” he whispered into Loki’s hair. “Never you doubt that.”

* * *

“I don’t,” he choked out, and clenched his fingers in Thor’s cloak, dragging the fabric up with him to grasp Thor’s shoulder. He didn’t want Thor to misunderstand him. He couldn’t misunderstand  _ this _ . “I n-never doubted, Thor. Never.” His lips trembled. “Þú ert hjartsláttur minn. I can’t... “

He brought his hand up to curve around the back of Thor’s neck and pressed their foreheads together in a move that Thor had always been the one to initiate in the past. Loki had never bothered with expressing his emotions the way that his brother had, and then he had tried to convince Thor that he didn’t love him, and how quickly he might have succeeded. He didn’t know if Thor understood that, if he knew, if he’d heard all of the things Loki had tried to say since his death.

“I can’t breathe when you’re not here,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his forehead hard against Thor’s, ignoring the tears that ran down his cheeks. He tightened his grip on Thor’s neck. “Thor. I think I went to Valhalla with you. I think… I got lost, or I wasn’t…”  _ Worthy. Not worthy.  _ “They wouldn’t let me in and I can’t… I can’t be where you aren’t, Thor. I won’t… I know they’ll never let me in but don’t… don’t... “ He remembered seeing Thor sitting with his back to Loki, not bothering to turn around to look at him, telling the valkyrie to send him away and he drew in a shuddering breath. “Don’t forget I love you. Please. Don’t forget me.”

* * *

**** Thor felt his heart skip a beat when Loki pulled their heads in together. Always,  _ always, _ that had been his move to instigate.

He listened to Loki’s broken breathing and whispered words, felt the grip on the back of his neck tighten and Loki’s hand come up to clutch at his shoulder as Loki begged him not to forget him when he finally went to Valhalla to stay. There was something so damaged in his brother’s soul, and Thor felt the thunderstorm inside of his own stirring in the need to defend him, to protect him.

“Don’t forget I love you. Please. Don’t forget me.”

Thor’s eyes burned, his chest felt tight and hot and he let go the barrier he was holding up against his power, and his tears. They burned hot, scalding paths down his cheeks to mingle with Loki’s as the sky above them rumbled and opened, a freezing rain falling everywhere… but not on them. There was a clear circle around them where the rain refused to fall.

“Loki… Loki I would rather pluck my eyes from my head than to forget you,” Thor said, his voice raw as his heart felt. “I will  _ never _ forget you.” He wondered then, when Loki had seen him in Valhalla… had that been before Hel had woken him in Niflheim? It came like a lightning bolt, crystal clear and obvious as to what he would do.

“I surrender my place in Valhalla,” he called out, pressing his head harder still against Loki’s and ignoring his brother’s gasp. “I bind my afterlife to that of my brother, to that of Loki, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard and my very heartbeat.” He moved back just enough to roughly kiss Loki’s forehead before thunking his own back into place. “ _ Never _ shall we be parted again,” he growled. “There is nothing, no one, not a single being anywhere that will take me from you. We are meant to rule together, Loki. I cannot do this without you,” Thor choked a painful breath. “I-I don’t  _ want _ to.”

Loki went stiff in his arms, and Thor wondered if he’d gone too far, binding them together for eternity. “Loki,” his voice was barely even a whisper. “I… have I overstepped?”

* * *

**** He couldn’t breathe.

Thor had given up his place in Valhalla? For  _ him? _  What was he… what was he  _ thinking _ ? He couldn’t do that! He deserved his place in the golden halls. Thor had been chosen by the Valkyrie and he couldn’t give that up. Loki didn’t even know if it was possible to do so. Perhaps, when the time did come for Thor to pass, he would be taken there anyway.

“Loki,” Thor whispered, so quietly that Loki almost couldn’t hear him over the rain that poured down around them, “I… have I overstepped?”

Overstepped? By attempting to bind them together so tightly that even the end of time itself could not rip them apart? Even if it were not possible, the mere attempt was enough to bring Loki to his knees. To know that his brother wanted him there. Not just to rule with him, but afterward, after their time was done, and forever. To know that, even if it could never be… it soothed an ache in Loki’s chest that had festered like a wound since he learned that Thor was not truly his brother.

“No, Thor,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You haven’t overstepped. You’ve surprised me is all.” He smiled. “I’m impressed.” He licked his lips. “But there are things… things you don’t know. About the battle of New York, and the Mind Stone – the scepter.” He swallowed a hard lump in his throat. “And I suppose I want to know what happened with you. How… how are you even here?”

* * *

**** Relief flooded him when Loki said he’d not overstepped. Thor knew he could be impulsive, and that it wasn’t always best to act without thinking, but he  _ knew _ deep inside of himself, that what he’d done had been the right thing to do. He couldn’t imagine ever being parted from Loki again.

He was proud when Loki admitted that he’d impressed him. It wasn’t often someone could claim to have impressed the Trickster, after all. He petted gently at Loki’s hair as his brother spoke again, wanting to tell him of New York, of the Sceptre… “And I suppose I want to know what happened with you. How… how are you even here?”

Thor stepped back, and grinned down at Loki’s tear streaked face. He swiped his thumbs along underneath his eyes to catch the stray tears still falling, and pressed carefully on his sharp cheekbones.

“Loki, when did you eat something last? You’re thin… even for you,” he fussed. Loki had always been slighter than he, but even for someone naturally so, he felt like a wisp under Thor’s hands. He nodded once to himself, and gripped Loki’s forearms in his own. “I think we should retire back to the Lady Jane’s residence.” He reached one hand out and called Gungnir to him. “You need food, and we have much to discuss. Can you teleport us there along Yggdrasil, or shall I move us?”

The power of Gungnir was twitching in his palm as the rains eased around them, the sun shining weakly down again. Gungnir’s gifts were powerful, and he could see now the paths of the Tree before him. While he would never skip amongst her branches with Loki’s ease or finesse, he could get them to where they needed.

* * *

**** Loki tried to remember when he had last eaten. There was pizza at Jane Foster’s apartment, but he hadn’t eaten any of it, merely torn his portion to small bits and thrown the mess away. He supposed the last time he had eaten had been sometime before the attack on the palace.

He flinched at the memory of the Kursed and his words to him. He would have to tell Thor… he would need to tell him that it was Loki’s fault that he had been killed, before they returned to Asgard and Heimdallr revealed Loki’s betrayal. But not until after he learned of how Thor came back. He did not want his brother to keep the information from him. Not if the future might call for a repeat of the act. If Thor were to throw himself into battle and falter again and there was a way for him to be brought back, then Loki would need to know how it was done.

He drew a slow breath and let it out, trying to put his thoughts in order. “A few days, I think. What night did we have Cook Kanil’s apple tart?” Thor would remember which night that had been – it was his favorite.

“Can you teleport us there along Yggdrasil, or shall I move us?”

Loki turned to look for where he had dropped Mjolnir. The dagger lay on the ground, the ice receded from it and its silver blade looking eerily normal. Nothing like the weapon of starlight and magic Loki knew it to be.

He moved to retrieve the blade only for the place inside his head where it lay to thrum with power. The blade vanished from where it lay and reappeared in his hand, his fingers closing around the hilt on instinct.

It occurred to him, suddenly, that he was holding  _ Mjolnir _ . That he had, in fact, been carrying a piece of the hammer for days before it reformed into the shape of a dagger in his hand.

How… he had tried to lift her before, in New Mexico, and she hadn’t budged. He was no more worthy now than he had been then. Less so, even, after what he had done in the dungeons.

Thor’s fingers wrapped around his wrist gently and Loki realized his hand had started to shake.

He drew a deep breath and forced his limbs to still. “I can take us,” he said quietly, slipping Mjolnir through his belt.

He grabbed Thor’s hand in his and called his seidr out, opening a hole in the world, and stepped out along the branches of Yggdrasil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**
> 
> Ég elska þig, bróðir - I love you, brother  
> Þú ert hjartsláttur minn. - You are my heartbeat


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor and Loki return to Jane's apartment. Sleipnir demonstrates his knowledge of Disney movies, and Thor removes the Aether from Loki.

The movement of the worlds had ceased. They remained in perfect alignment and would for a few days yet, but for now, the shuddering of the World Tree had stopped. When they began to move again, the branches wouldn’t be safe to walk upon for a while, but for now, Loki’s steps were sure.

They walked for only a short time before his seidr opened another doorway and he stepped out.

There was a stinging slap against his cheek that had him jerking back, Thor’s arm coming up to steady him as Darcy stormed into his personal space, her eyes glistening with fury and tears. “You absolute  _ shithead, _ ” she snapped, and wrapped her arms around him. Loki stood there, startled, as she hugged him tightly.

“Miss Lewis,” he said uncertainly.

She pulled back and slapped him again. “Don’t do it again or I’ll… I’ll  _ spank you _ .”

There was a quiet gasp from behind Darcy and they all turned to look at Sleipnir, sitting on the floor with two of his hooves pressed against his mouth. “Darcy’s gonna touch the butt.”

Loki stared at his youngest son for a moment before looking back at Darcy with a scowl. “You’ve known him for less than a  _ day _ . How?”

* * *

Thor bit his lip to hold his laughter in as Darcy smacked Loki and called him a shithead. He sighed when she did it again and threatened to spank him.

He looked behind Darcy when a small gasp sounded, to see Sleipnir sitting on the floor with two of his hooves - and why were they  _ rainbow? _ \- pressed against his mouth. “Darcy’s gonna touch the butt,” he whispered.

Loki stared at Sleipnir’s giggling form for a moment, before he turned on Darcy with a scowl. “You’ve known him for less than a day. How?”

“I am confused,” Thor admitted, stepping forwards into the apartment beside Loki, putting his arm back around his brother’s waist. “Why is Miss Darcy touching my brothers, uh,” he felt his face flush red and scratched at his beard with the hand not holding Loki, and he tried again. “W-why is she touching Loki’s rear?”

Sleipnir snorted and started to laugh, the rest of the room joining in. Loki gave an exasperated sigh, and Thor just felt lost.

_ ‘I don’t understand that reference’ _ drifted through his mind in the Captain’s deep voice. He could sympathise. He cleared his throat and tugged on Loki’s hip to pull him closer.

“May we come in, Lady Jane?” he asked politely. When Jane nodded, he steered Loki into the room and onto the couch. “Sit, brother.” He turned to Darcy and smiled at her. She had always held a special place in his heart, with her feisty and quirky nature. “ _ Lokidottir,”  _ he said fondly, delighting in the faint blush on her cheeks. “Would you happen to have food for my brother and myself? Malekith has been struck down and we have stopped the Convergence from annihilating your world.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at him. “Would’ve fed  you without the dramatics, Ken doll,” she muttered and moved away into the kitchen.

“How did you stop it?” Erik asked them, sitting down on Loki’s other side to talk. “It was all looking a bit…” he waggled his hand in front of him for a moment. “Touch and go?”

Loki snorted and Thor laughed as he sat beside his brother, and easy arm slung over his shoulders. “It was most simple, my friend!” he paused a moment and glanced over at Loki. “Uh… my brother however, is the one who shall explain it best!”

* * *

Loki sent Thor a scowl that lacked any real heat. “Smooth, brother.” Thor just gave him an innocent grin that had fooled Loki no more than it had fooled their mother. He rolled his eyes but turned to the explanation just the same. He was more familiar with seidr, which would aid him in his explanation.

“You know of Yggdrasil, I expect?” he asked Selvig. “The tree that holds the worlds in its branches?”

“We’ve read some of the myths,” the doctor said, “but to be clear, it’s a real tree?”

Loki’s mouth twisted. “Yes and no. Yggdrasil, like the rest of the universe, was formed from the body of Ymir, the… first god, if you like. It took the form of a tree for those who are able to see it, for the differing paths of the branches mimic the turn of the universe. There are ways that the world is supposed to move, things that are meant to happen, and roads laid out already for the world to turn by. Some, like my mother, can see these paths before they happen.” He sent Thor a curious look. “Some, despite all forces against them, can shake the paths from their mooring, but that is a different discussion.

“Yggdrasil appears as a tree, at any rate, though it is far more than that. It is magic and life and the force that gives all of this to the universe. It is the source of my seidr, for instance.” He raised his hand and summoned a flame of blue fire to dance among his fingers. Sleipnir leaned over and blew it out.

“Whoa, is my hair out?” the stallion mocked, and flopped over onto his side and whinnied laughter as he beat the floor with his hooves.

Loki rolled his eyes and lowered his hand back into his lap. “The branches of Yggdrasil hold the worlds, but every five thousand years, the branches shift. The worlds were once one being and so they are drawn together, and thus the Convergence rises, but it is violent and the worlds without proper protection or knowledge of magics are at risk of being destroyed.”

“Like Earth,” Jane said quietly.

Loki nodded. “Midgard also sits at the center of the Convergence, which makes it particularly vulnerable and…” He bit his lip, unsure.

“And the All-Father would not have bent his seidr to defend Midgard from destruction,” Thor said quietly, from Loki’s side. “He did not see this world, or the people who live here, as worth protecting.”

“No offense, Thor,” Darcy said, walking back into the room, “but your dad sounds like a giant douchebag.”

Thor frowned and glanced at Loki before looking back at Darcy. “I understand that was meant to be an insult, Lady Darcy, but what precisely is a bag of douche?”

Darcy’s cheeks went very red and Loki started shaking at Thor’s side as he struggled not to laugh.

“Nevermind!” Darcy said, and tossed Thor a box of poptarts. “You’re lucky, big guy. I brought those from college, like, three days ago.” Thor gave the box of poptarts a look of utter delight as Darcy handed them each a plate with a slice of pizza. “So, your dad thinks humans are about as fun to have around as a flock of mosquitos. So how you guys manage to convince him?”

Loki sent Thor a smile so full of pride that the god of thunder blushed. “We didn’t. Thor called Gungnir to him. You are presently host to the acting King of Asgard.”

Thor’s blush deepened and Loki cackled cheerfully.

Darcy leaned over to Sleipnir and asked, “Should we bow or something?”

“No, my friends,” Thor said, “please do not. None of you here will ever have need to bow to me. Not after all you have done to assist me and my brother.”

“Okay, cool,” Darcy said, with a nod. “So you got Guneer from your dad and, what, told the tree to quit it?”

Loki chuckled. “The Convergence could not be stopped. Not even by the King of Asgard. It has successfully come to pass. The nine worlds are presently aligned and will remain so for perhaps another two days before they return to their proper place. What Thor  _ did _ was use his seidr to protect Midgard from the force of the realms aligning.”

“But Loki, I do not have any seidr,” Thor said, “and I did not ask Gungnir to protect Midgard.” A look of shame filled his face. “I did not even think to do so.”

Loki leaned his weight a little against Thor’s side. “You wouldn’t have needed to. Your love for Midgard is obvious. Also, I distinctly recall, near the end of your exile, you claiming that Midgard was under your protection. That kind of claim resonates throughout the world. You issued a royal command, Thor, that the whole of the universe was forced to obey.” He smiled slyly. “Perhaps I am not the only one with a silver tongue.

“As for seidr, all living creatures have a little. It is the life force of the world and flows within all things. You have used it when wielding Mjolnir in the past.” (“MewMew!” Darcy said with delight.) “And you used it against Malekith when you called the lightning with your bare hands, and then into Gungnir. Yours remains focused within your storm powers, which is why many do not see their own magics as seidr, such as I use. My abilities are much more… versatile.”

“Wow.” Darcy looked between the two of them. “So you’re royal alien gods  _ and _ you have magic.” She looked at Loki. “You have a son who is a magic pony and your daughter is the queen of the underworld. Is there anything else you wanna blow our minds with while mine’s primed for exploding?”

Thor looked at Loki, took in the happy flush to his skin, and sighed, breaking apart the last of his poptart into crumbs between his fingers, ignoring the small pile growing in his lap.

“Whilst Loki has done an admirable job at explaining the complicated aspects of all that has happened,” he said and reached out to grab Loki’s hand, poptarts forgotten for the time. He squeezed it tightly, and was grateful when Loki squeezed back. “I’m sure you all remember New York? The Chitauri?” Loki squeezed his hand again, hard enough that if Thor were mortal the bones would have shattered. He let him, and simply kept speaking.

“They were sent by a being known as Thanos, the Mad Titan. He was attempting to collect all six of the Infinity Stones, though what his end goal was, I can’t say for sure. I was contacted by a disillusioned follower of his, a creature called Ebony Maw.”  _ And such a useful ally he’d ended up being!  _ “He told me…” Thor had to pause a moment to recall the creatures words. “He told me that ‘ _ No other being has ever had the might to wield not one, but two Infinity Stones. The universe lies within your grasp’ _ ,” he said quietly. “I was informed of the location of the two I apparently had under my control already.”

“The Tesseract,” Loki said softly and Thor nodded.

“Aye. And the Aether is another. The Reality Stone.”

Jane drew a sharp breath in, and Thor looked up at her. She was pale, and had a hand pressed over her mouth. “That… that was why it could show me things?”

Thor nodded again. “Indeed. And now it is…” he closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. “Loki is now the one who bears it,” his eyes opened and a fresh wave of guilt washed over him. He’d left his little brother alone, with no other solution within his grasp but to take the Aether into himself.

“I must remove it, soon,” he said to Loki, not looking to see whether he’d agreed or not before continuing. “I awoke in Niflheim, and Hel sent me to Knowhere.” He skimmed over the story, as Jane and the others had heard it already. “I received a call from Carina, right before I landed. They have captured Thanos and imprisoned him on Knowhere. Tivan will not let him loose again.”

“So… evil grape-face guy is locked up in some nowhere prison, and now you’re gonna suck the evil out of Loki and… what?” Darcy said, looking from Thor to Loki and back. “What happens then?”

“And then…”

“Then Thor will return to Asgard and formally ascend the throne,” Loki finished. Thor sighed and tipped his head back to rest on the couch.

“Verily,” he muttered. “But before that, I must retrieve the Aether from you, Loki.”

“Wait, wait,” Selvig interrupted. “What does that have to do with New York?”

“Thanos was the one controlling me,” Loki said simply. “He tortured me into compliance and sent me with the sceptre to clear a pathway for his Chitauri army.”

“Wow… that’s just, what an  _ asshole _ ,” Darcy said. Sleipnir grunted his agreement.

“I feel we should visit Knowhere,” he said in a low voice. Thor snorted at him.

“Perhaps remove your rainbows and glitter first, if you wish to be intimidating, my little lad.”

“Shan’t.”

Thor glanced at Loki and winked. “He is  _ your _ son.” Loki sighed and shook his head.

“How do you plan to remove the Aether?”

Thor grinned at him. At least one of his plans was coming together. “I have a crystal from Tivan. It will draw it out and store it safely, until we get back to Asgard.”

And returning there would be a whole new set of problems. Thor looked over at where Gungnir was resting against the wall and felt an uncomfortable kind of itch on the back of his neck. Heimdallr could probably see him now, had heard the calls of the guards and his mother throughout Asgard when Thor had called it to his hand.

He’d deposed his father without even a second thought. Odin had been in the OdinSleep more often lately, and Asgard - all the realms, really - had been suffering for it.

One man alone was not meant to possess all the power of the throne of Asgard. It was to be shared between ruler and spouse, or advisor, but Odin had refused to trust anyone enough to take the burden. And now it was consuming him, destroying him slowly and aging him faster than Iðunn’s apples could stop.

He felt a sharp pain in the tip of his nose and blinked in surprise. Loki was glaring at him, fingers poised to flick him again.

“Stop that train of thought, brother,” he scolded. “You’re disappearing into your mind. Now isn’t the time to second guess. You’ve made your choices… we both have. And I will follow you to whatever end, now.”

“Loki, what of Fa- Odin?” he asked, hoping that Loki would ignore his slip.

Loki, bless him, did. “He is in the Odin Sleep, and there he shall stay until after your coronation.”

Thor hummed and shifted to stand up. He reached a hand down to Loki. “Come then, little brother. Let me free you of the burden of the Aether, and then we shall return home. I do believe we are both in for quite a scolding from mother.”

* * *

“Undoubtedly,” Loki sighed, but there was no true concern there. He had a thrilling sensation rolling through him at the knowledge that he would be able to see his mother and bring his lost brother with him as he did so. That he could walk into Asgard with Thor and perhaps relieve her of the grief that had so badly taken her eased the knowledge that even with Odin in the Odin-Sleep, Loki’s sentence remained intact. Thor might well take his seat on the throne, but his first act should not be to renege on the last act of his father. That was a good part of the reason why Loki had not undone Thor’s banishment when he was handed Gungnir, although at that point, he had still been sane enough to not want Thor to come back and start a war with Jötunheim.

He took his brother’s hand and let Thor lead him from the couch to an area some distance away from the mortals.

“Sleipnir,” he called, looking back, but his son had already risen to his feet and stood between them and the mortals. Most would look upon him and see only a horse with too many legs, but Sleipnir had almost as much seidr as Loki did. He would be able to protect the mortals if things grew out of hand.

Thor stepped around Loki so they faced each other and pulled a small box from his hand. It was a small thing that fit easily into Thor’s palm, dark and made of a soft velvet. Loki chuckled as he looked at it, then glanced slyly up at his brother.

“Thor, I never knew you felt this way.”

Thor gave him a blank look, then glanced down at the box. Behind him, Sleipnir whinnied with laughter as Darcy snickered into her hands.

“Clearly, brother, I need to spend more time on Midgard so I do not continue to miss these references.”

“Movie Night!” Sleipnir cried with delight.

“Oh, I definitely need to introduce you to my friend Kuzco,” Darcy told him, and Loki could feel a groan rumbling out of his chest. “He’s a talking llama.”

Loki tuned them out, returning his attention to Thor. His brother was staring down at the box with a contemplative look on his face. “Tell me you read the instructions, Thor.”

“I was not given instructions, brother,” Thor said. “I was only told that it would work to remove the Aether.”

Loki had a brief moment to worry that the box was specifically made to remove the Aether from a  _ human _ , but then Thor held the small box closer to Loki and it began to glow a deep, angry red color. Nothing at all like the color Thor favored but darker, tinged with the black of void space. Loki shivered as he looked at it and took a step away.

“No, brother,” Thor said, reaching out and grabbing his wrist.

“Release me,” Loki spat, jerking his hand from Thor’s hold.

Thor only grabbed his hand again and entwined their fingers together. “Do not let the Aether twist your actions, Loki. It does not want to be removed from you, but it  _ must _ be.” He slipped his arm around Loki and clasped the back of his neck, bringing their foreheads together. “I will not let another Infinity Stone steal you away from me, hjartsláttur minn.”

Loki drew a shuddering breath and forced himself to still, to not fight Thor’s hold. Now that Thor had called attention to it, he could feel the Aether within him, sliding through his veins like tar. It burned hot against his insides and he shuddered all the harder for recognizing its destructive touch. It was eating him from the inside out.

“Get it out,” he whispered to Thor, pressing his forehead hard against Thor’s. “Please, brother. I can’t… I can’t be a puppet again.”

Thor pulled his head back and pressed a kiss to Loki’s forehead. “Don’t listen to it, brother.” He grabbed Loki’s wrist and placed his palm against Thor’s own chest. “Listen to this.”

Loki closed his eyes. Thor’s heart beat steady and sure against his hand. He let out a breath and nodded. He was ready.

Thor grasped Loki’s other hand and pulled it up, held his wrist tightly, and with the box in his other other, clasped their hands together with the box pressed between their palms. The moment it touched Loki’s skin, the box flared white as an exploding star, forcing them all to shut their eyes against the light. It burned against their flesh, so hot that Thor could not hold his hand against Loki’s willingly, but attempting to pull away did nothing. He could no more remove his hand from Loki’s than he could call the oceans to do his bidding.

Loki was in a similar state, only he did not even notice his inability to move. He was trying desperately to focus on the beat of Thor’s heart against his palm as the voices screamed within his mind. Hel cried out for help and Fenrisulfr begged to know what he had done wrong. Jörmungandr wailed in fear from places too deep for Loki to reach and Sleipnir’ shrill whinny was loud enough to shatter his eardrums. Odin banged Gungnir hard against the floor and demanded for an executioner and Loki’s head, even as Frigga told him to go because he was not wanted.

They weren’t real. They were mere constructs of the Aether, desperate to flee from this place and escape imprisonment. But they weren’t real, because Thor’s pulse thrummed against his hand and his brother was  _ here _ . He had fought his way back from death to be with Loki and Loki would never, ever doubt him.

So he held on, through the howling cries of his fears and terrible memories, through the burn that he thought might render his whole arm to dust. Through the light that was so bright he was blinded even through his closed eyelids, as the raging fire of the Aether was pulled from his veins. Tears poured down his face and there was a pressure in his head, like a storm heavy in the air, but focused on the place in his mind where the scepter had torn fissures into his being. It built and built until he was screaming against the sensation of his mind being torn asunder.

Just when he thought he could take no more, that his mind would snap, the pressure vanished. The heat against his palm seared so hot he could smell his own flesh burning and the box between their palms trembled against their skin, as though fighting to escape. The light faded as quickly as it had arrived, returning to its simple black velvet appearance - nothing more than a small ring box.

Loki’s legs gave out beneath him and the only thing that stopped him breaking his nose on the floor was Thor’s quick reflexes. His brother grasped his shoulders with a hiss of pain, lowering himself to the floor with a weary slowness, holding Loki against him.

“Brother?” Thor whispered against his hair.

Loki drew a breath and focused on the feeling in his head where the Aether had been, a malevolent presence that took joy in causing pain and feeding on his every insecurity. The place where it had been was gone. He could feel Mjolnir, a wintry storm in his mind, cool and calming and ready to fight, but there was nothing in his head that wasn’t  _ him _ .

A sharp pain in his hand had him turning his palm over and the box  _ had _ seared into his flesh. Red and still pulsing with heat, the Vegvisir had been scarred into the skin of his hand. The ancient compass pulsed and throbbed rhythmically in his hand.

“Loki?” Thor asked quietly, and held his own hand up beside Loki’s.

Burned also into Thor’s hand, the hand that had held the box, was the Vegvisir. It was a mirror image of Loki’s, still red with heat.

His palm throbbed. It beat, steady and sure.

“Are we supposed to follow it?” Thor asked wearily.

“No need,” Loki whispered, and he leaned over far enough that he could press his palm flat to Thor’s chest. It beat steady along with his brother’s heart. “I’m already home.”

* * *

Thor had watched as Loki fought with the grip the Aether had on his mind with pride and worry. Pride, for he knew his brother would triumph, but worry because he could see the way he suffered as it resisted the pull of the box.

Their hands had fused, and burned and pulsed together, and through it all Thor’s only concern had been his brother’s mind. One more fracture, one more crack in the wrong place and he didn’t know if he’d ever truly get Loki back.

So he kept himself calm, kept his heartbeat steady against Loki’s hand and tried to project as best he could to his brother the feelings of  _ home _ , of  _ safety _ and  _ trust _ that he knew would resound the loudest over the shrieking of the Aether in his mind. There was no doubt what it was that it was subjecting Loki to; broken whispers of his children’s names fell from his lips and Thor was positive he didn’t even know he was speaking them aloud. Tears were pouring down his pale cheeks, and though Thor wanted nothing more than to reach out, to soothe his obvious distress… he held himself still, breathed calmly and let his steady heartbeat bring his brother back home to him.

There was a last wave of red, surging out from his brother’s very pores and swirling around them as Loki started to scream. On and  _ on  _ he screamed as the Aether writhed and twisted in the air and the box between their hands burned and trembled.

And then it was gone.

As suddenly as it all had begun it was over. Loki fell silent and Thor surged forward to catch him when he stumbled. He grasped hold of Loki’s thin shoulders, unable to help the hiss of pain that escaped him as his burnt hand pressed against his leathers, and eased his little brother to the ground. He pressed his face into the messy waves of Loki’s hair and breathed deeply, the familiar feel and smell grounding him.

“Brother?” he whispered, too afraid to ask more, to ask  _ louder _ in case he was…

The screaming had surely been his mind breaking, his soul shattering apart and now Thor held a husk, an empty shell wearing Loki’s face.

Loki took a deep breath in his arms, and Thor bit his lip against the hope that was threatening to rise. His brother turned his hand over and examined his palm.

Was he… “Loki?” Thor held his own palm up beside Loki’s paler, thinner one and marvelled at the intricate design of the Vegvisir burnt into his flesh.

A compass? By the  _ Norns _ but he was tired. Another quest? And to where?  _ Why? _

So he asked Loki, exhaustion obvious in his weary tone. “Are we supposed to follow it?”

But Loki had simply reached over and pressed his palm against Thor’s chest, right above the scar on his heart… right above his heartbeat.

“No need,” he’d whispered. “I’m already home.”

Thor could vaguely recall pulling his brother into a fierce embrace at that, but much after that was a hazy mess. There had been more words, questions from the mortals and answers he wasn’t sure if he’d given or Loki had spoken instead.

And then… almost nothing. Sleipnir had urged the pair of exhausted Gods onto his back, and gently told Thor to call Gungnir to him. There’d been a flash of light… movement and then Thor had opened his eyes to the sight of the long road leading to Asgard from the hidden entry to their world.

Loki’s favourite ‘back door’ as he called it.

“We’re home,” he said, Loki groaned softly. His brother was resting against his chest, his head on Thor’s shoulder, their hands entwined over Loki’s stomach. “Open your eyes, little brother. Tis time to face the truth of our actions.”

“And such actions Asgard has never seen,” a new voice interrupted. “Welcome home, King Thor. Prince Loki. I saw you coming.”

“Of course you did,” Loki snarked back, but it was half-hearted and exhausted sounding. Heimdallr simply quirked a brow at them, and turned his horse towards the palace. “Heimdallr…” Loki’s voice was quiet and unsure, and Thor gave the thin fingers twined with his a reassuring stroke, and Loki squeezed back. “Is it bad, Heimdallr?”

Heimdallr hummed, and Thor sighed. He was in no mood for his friend’s theatrics. As he opened his mouth to  _ tell _ Heimdallr just that, the GateKeeper spoke.

“It is none so bad as I am sure you are imagining, my Prince,” his voice was deep and steady, as always, and Thor felt as Loki relaxed back into his arms. “Your mother is the one who is waiting by the doors, however.”

Those intense golden eyes met Thor’s as they slowed and came to a stop at the entrance to the palace. Thor saw the stars and universe moving in Heimdallr’s piercing gaze, but he didn’t let his own waver. Whatever the Gate Keeper was looking for, Thor assumed he’d found it when the only response he got thereafter was a polite half bow, and then he was on his way to the stable.

“Will I wait out here, Uncle Thor?” Sleipnir’s question startled him, and Thor dragged his eyes from Heimdallr’s retreating form to look at his nephew’s inquisitive face.

“Aye, little lad. With luck, it shall be the last time. But I am unsure as to the runic work the All-Father has laid over the entryway since your time here. Be patient,” he gave the quivering flank beneath his hand a gentle pat and slipped smoothly down, one hand still about Loki’s waist to steady him as he followed Thor down. “Easy, Loki,” he said. “You’ve been through enough today alone, let us not add a broken ankle to it, hm?”

The look Loki gave him would have curdled milk, but Thor just grinned at it. His brother was hale and hearty, and he was  _ here _ . He was within Thor’s grasp still, and now would never slip beyond it again.

“I haven’t broken an ankle dismounting Sleipnir yet,” Loki narrowed his eyes at Thor, but petted fondly at the hand about his waist. “I fear injury will be difficult to come by for some time. You’re a limpet, Thor.”

“I am greatly unashamed to be so!” Thor beamed at his little brother, and gave Sleipnir a gentle nudge in the direction of Frigga’s gardens. “Go rest, little nephew. Your Amma’s gardens are a sight to behold in this spring season.” Sleipnir gave a happy little whinny and with a last bump of his nose into his mother’s face, trotted off to rest.

Thor turned his face to stare up at the golden walls of the palace and sighed heavily. “I suppose I cannot put it off any longer,” he muttered, and tugged Loki forwards.

The sky above them darkened with each step he took, the thunder rolling low and steady throughout the streets and city of Asgard. Lightning crackled and flashed above them, and Thor felt as something old and heavy settled deep within him, spreading itself throughout his entire being, cold and warm and fluid all at once. Gungnir glowed brightly in his hand and the lightning sparking along the shaft of the spear was warm and comforting. Another step, another roll and flash above them and the heavy thing inside of Thor simply… fell into place.

_ The Odinforce, _ a small voice whispered somewhere in the back of his mind.  _ The power of all of Asgard. We welcome you home, Wielder of Gungnir and rightful ruler of Asgard.  Heill to you, Thor Odinson. King of Asgard. _

“Oh,” he breathed, and felt his storms rise and surge within him. He could feel all of Asgard in that moment. Could feel the heat from his brother underneath his hand, could feel the heartbeat in his chest echoed in the Vegvisir on Loki’s palm. There were nine women birthing as he stood, and he felt the ebb and flow of the small lives being brought into the world. There were men brawling, children playing, lovers in their secret embraces and all throughout the city he could  _ feel _ the lifeforce of all of them.

Thor gasped and felt Loki’s heartbeat in his palm pick up it’s pace as his brother shifted closer still. Yet Thor’s remained steady, his entire heartbeat contained within Loki’s chest.

_ Your hjartsláttur, Thor. He is your only. This is as it should be. _

“There is… no other for me,” Thor said softly. “Loki,” he turned to face his brother with wide eyes - barely able to focus on the worried green of his brother’s before him, as a  lifetime and more fell into place before him - “Loki, I bound our souls with the apple of Iðunn… there is no other for me,” he muttered. “You will… there is yours, and there is us to rule. The Odinforce will come to you when I am crowned before the people. You will bend it to your will and serve me well. You are mine.”

Loki frowned and reached out as though to lay a hand on Thor’s arm, but changed his mind, choosing to simply press closer and brace his body along Thor’s side. “Big brother,” he murmured. “You aren’t making sense. I belong to no one.”

But Thor was finally seeing sense. He was seeing everything, all at once. He’d bound his brother to him in lieu of a soulmate. There would be no woman nor man who would ever truly hold his heart. He was for Asgard. But Loki had known love - true, painful and fulfilling -  and would do so again. He belonged to Thor as Thor belonged to Asgard now, and to Loki too. For without one, there could not be the other.

**_“You’re listening, Uncle.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hjartsláttur minn - my heartbeat


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor comes to understand what the future holds for he and his brother, but Loki knows he does not deserve anything but a cage after being the reason his brother died.

Thor wasn’t making any sense. Loki had half a mind to skip the meeting with their mother and take him directly to Eir. He had held the box that pulled the Aether from Loki. Perhaps it had done something and Loki, in his weariness and relief, had not seen. Foolishness. He should have looked his brother over immediately upon his release from the Infinity Stone’s grasp. He should have made certain--

“Thor!” he gasped, as his brother grabbed his hand and forcefully pulled him toward the castle gates. “What are you doing?”

“Come, brother. We must speak with Mother. She knows of what I speak. Perhaps she will be able to explain it where I cannot.”

He quickened his pace so that Thor was not tugging so hard on his arm. He did not think his brother even realized that he was clutching their hands together so the Vegvisir on their palms were pressed flush. The wounds were still raw but held against Thor’s hand as it was, it did not hurt. It was as though Thor’s touch were a healing balm, and after his mind had been healed not only of the Aether but also the damage from the Mind Stone, Loki was inclined to believe that there might be some truth to this.

Their mother was waiting for them when they arrived. Over the years, Loki had come to realize that though Frigga could not speak of her visions, she sometimes told of them in other ways. One of the most noticeable was the way she had dressed, the different colors of her outfits indicating her moods or what her visions foretold. The dress she had worn the day of the attack on the palace had been the grey of solemnity, he thought, and the sea-green of protection and healing. Because she had known when the day began that it was supposed to end with  _ her _ death.

And she had cried when he dared to tell her she wasn’t his mother.

Her dress now was a shade of olive green that Loki had never seen her wear, one that meant  _ peace _ , but the cloak that fell from her shoulders was the black of mourning and grief.

Loki could not help the sound of pain that escaped him at the sight of the tears in her eyes. It called back a memory of his own grief, that terrible moment when he had realized her words of Thor’s death were true, and his hands tightened around Thor’s hard enough that his own fingers ached.

There was a soft smile on Frigga’s face as she looked between them, because Thor was  _ here _ . He was  _ here _ and Loki would never let him go again. There was no censure in Frigga’s expression. The queen should not appear weak before her subjects, but Loki thought even those who watched would not be unmoved by the return of the God of Thunder, and Frigga could be forgiven for appearing as affected as any mother would be.

Loki untwisted his hand from Thor’s and felt his brother’s heartbeat speed up in his palm. “Idiot,” he choked out softly, and shoved him toward Frigga. He had already had his reunion. Thor needed to go and soothe the grief in their mother’s heart now.

Thor went with no more prompting, and Frigga ran her hands gently down the sides of Thor’s face, the tears slipping freely down her cheeks. “Welcome back, my son.” She wrapped her arms around Thor and held him tight.

Loki watched the reunion with a soft smile. He had left only with the intention of avenging his brother, but here he had instead been able to bring Thor back. Nevermind that Thor had spent much of the past day supporting Loki so he did not falter. He thought, perhaps, he could claim just a little credit here.

He glanced down at the Vegvisir burned into his palm. Thor hadn’t been making much sense, but Loki also hadn’t been telling the truth when he said that he belonged to no one. The truth was that he had belonged to Thor since they were small. Loki did not know the exact moment that it began, but he knew that it was true. He had ever been intent to follow his brother around on his mad journeys. He had spoken of the need to protect Thor in his foolish battle-love, but the truth was that Loki had wanted nothing more or less than to be  _ with _ Thor. He had loved his brother with a love so fierce it was destructive, and he had been broken more by Thor’s banishment to Midgard and mortality than by the revelation of his true heritage.

“My heartbeat,” he murmured gently.

Thor’s hand closed over his and Loki looked up as his brother pulled him forward, into Frigga’s embrace. His brother’s arm curled comfortably around his waist as his mother wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly to her. “My darling boy.” She pressed a kiss to his temple. “I am so proud of you.”

* * *

“Black is far too severe for you, mother,” Thor said as they followed Frigga through the halls, his eyes fixed on the movement of her cloak.

“Grief is a severe emotion, Thor,” she said quietly, falling back to walk in step with him. Loki was still at Thor’s side, their hands clasped firmly together, and she smiled at the sight. “I have been wrong before. I did not want to assume that what occurred here earlier was what my heart hoped.”

“What did happen earlier?” Loki asked her, and Frigga’s mouth twisted into a grimace.

“It was… violent.” She sighed as they came to a stop outside the throne room. “Thor, the entire Thing is assembled,” she said softly. “You will be asked to answer their questions, to reaffirm what happened on Midgard. And you may be asked-” she glanced down at their joined hands “- you  _ will _ be asked what it is you intend to do about your brother’s sentence.”

Thor felt his chest grow hot with rage. “I will not lock Loki away again!” he snarled. “He is  _ mine!” _

Frigga stared at him, and reached out to cup their entwined hands in her own. “Do you know what it is that you mean, darling?”

Thor nodded. It had all become so glaringly obvious to him, the truth illuminated in the flash of lightning and the rolling of the thunder through the city streets.

He was Asgard.

Loki was his heartbeat, his home. The one true thing he would trust above all others for all eternity.

“Hliðskjálf spoke to me. I have heard the voices of Asgard. There is no other for me, mother. I have found the soul to my soul, and it is in Loki. He is my hjartsláttur, and there will be no other in my heart.”

“Thor?”

He grinned down at Loki’s curious face. “I told you before, Little Loki!” He leaned in and kissed his brother’s cheek firmly. “You are  _ mine _ . You will be by my side for all eternity. Love has touched you, and will do so again. But I am for Asgard. She is my only love, and you are my heartbeat. You are my Vegvisir - it is to you that I will always move. You and I, we are home.”

“You make no sense, brother,” Loki sighed, but Frigga was watching him closely.

“Do you understand me, Mother?” Thor asked her, and was relieved when she nodded.

“Two brothers, destined to rule the realms together. One heartbeat shared between two souls,” she whispered, and pressed her hands against their chests. One hand over Thor’s scarred heart, and the other over Loki’s. “Two souls. One King and his closest Advisor.”

Loki stared down at her hand on his chest and then at his hand where it was still clutching at Thor’s. “But… we are not lovers. Entwined souls is a… lovers thing,” he said in a confused voice, and Thor burst into laughter.

“Nay brother. For all that I shall love you always, we are not bound that way,” he chuckled and Frigga laughed softly as well. “But I have no need for a lover. I will have you always by my side, and Asgard. I need nothing else. 'Tis why my dalliance with the Lady Jane was destined to fail. She cannot hold my heart, for my heart rests with you. And the Nornir know, you will have love again Loki.”

Thor kissed his mother’s cheek, squeezed his brothers hand and straightened up. With a roll of his shoulders, his green cloak hung clean and new, his armour gleamed and Gungnir hummed in his hand. Loki stepped back and ran a glowing hand over his own clothing, mending the tears and removing the dirt. Thor left his hair, burial braids and clover buds still in place, but shook it free of dirt and debris.

“Let us face the Thing,” he cracked his neck and grinned at Loki, who had a pensive and worried look on his face. “Fret not, little brother. I _ am _ Asgard, and I will not let them put you or your children back in cages.”

Thor didn’t wait for a response. There was a hot fire burning in his chest, his lightning crackling underneath his skin, desperate to be free. He gripped Gungnir tighter and focused on the soothing hum the spear was giving off, letting it seep into his body and soothe the raging storms. Thor strode forward and pushed open the doors to the throne room, hearing as Hliðskjálf called to him to take his place.

The true King of Asgard had returned.

* * *

Loki wished he had Thor’s confidence. As much as he wanted to believe that everything would be fine, that Gungnir in Thor’s hand meant that things would be different now, Thor was young. There had been no coronation ceremony, and with Odin in the OdinSleep, it could not truly happen. Thor might hold Gungnir, but it was no different than when Loki had held it after Thor’s banishment. He was  _ Acting King _ , and the Thing would not look upon him as their de facto ruler. He would only be a placeholder, there to sit the throne until Odin woke again.

And would the people treat him as they had treated Loki? Not if he acted as they believed he should, no. But if Thor refused to send Loki back to his cage in the dungeons, they would no doubt see him as the foolish child he had been before. They may act against him just as they had Loki.

The thought of the people of Asgard turning on Thor as Loki had been turned on, being betrayed, his commands ignored, sent fury coursing through his blood. He had been handed Gungnir by the All-Mother and still, even Heimdallr had viewed him as unworthy to sit Hliðskjálf.

And yes, Loki had made mistakes. Just because Thor’s acts were considerably more noticeable did not mean that Loki could not  _ also _ be impulsive. He had made a mistake in luring the Jotun into Asgard so they would attempt to steal the Casket back. He had known that they would never survive, yes, and he had taken pains to ascertain that blame would not come back on Asgard and war would be averted. He had only intended for Thor’s coronation to be delayed, as he knew the bloodlust his brother still held in his heart, the need for glory, would overpower his  _ sense _ . Thor didn’t  _ listen. _

He had tried to bring it up to Odin but had been rebuffed. Odin would not hear him, and so Loki had been forced to show him.

But in the process, the guards outside of the vault had died at the hands of the Jotun. They’d had families. Loki had identified them during his time sitting on Hliðskjálf . One of them had had a little girl that was the same age as Hel had been when Odin had ripped her from his arms.

He had deserved the guilt he’d suffered for his actions, but Midgard had not deserved his actions because of it. Nor had Thor, who had nearly died by the hand of Loki’s fury and guilt and desperate need to not hurt anymore than he already did.  _ Had died _ , his mind reminded him cruelly. Thor  _ had _ died. It had only been for a moment, before Mjolnir had returned to him and, with her, his immortality, but for a moment…

Loki’s skin chilled in a way that had nothing to do with his Jotun heritage.

And Thor wanted to release Loki from his prison? To have Loki rule beside him? His Advisor, his mother had said. Him – the God of  _ Lies? _

They would never allow it to happen. The Thing would argue against it. Heimdallr, who had never trusted Loki – and with good reason, it seemed – would never permit it to go on, even if he had to betray his king.

And Thor, who loved Loki, would never let that stand. He would fight for Loki, as he had  _ always _ fought for Loki, and he couldn’t let that happen. Thor would make a  _ great _ king.

But a much as they might wish otherwise, Loki could not stand with him.

Loki lifted his head from his contemplations as they stepped into the chamber where the Thing was to take place. People were gathered around, waiting. Týr was there, but even the flush of cold fury that filled him whenever he looked upon the man who had helped to bind his son could not shake off the melancholy that had fallen over him.

Thor strode to the front of the crowd and Loki followed alongside his mother. She was looking at him, her eyes filled with concern, but Loki didn’t look over at her. He knew she would agree with Thor in this, that Loki should stand as Advisor to his brother as he sat the throne. She had been telling them that tale since they were young.

It was a nice dream, truly. But even as a child, Loki had known the other brother in the story wasn’t him. He pressed the fingers of his right hand against the Vegvisir on his left palm and felt Thor’s heart thrum against his.

Whatever this was… it was a gift that Loki would never scorn. He could feel his brother’s heartbeat. He knew, without asking, that he would always feel it, as long as it beat within Thor’s chest. That would soothe him in the days to come. To know that Thor was here in the world, alive… Loki would have given  _ anything _ . In the end, his freedom was such a small price to pay.

“Loki,” Thor called, and Loki lifted his head to see his brother standing there, hand (his right hand, the hand that beat with Loki’s heart) held out for Loki to take. The people gathered around were looking at him. The Warriors Three were there, as well as Sif. He could see Heimdallr, golden eyes watching. Someone else, perhaps a group of soldiers, would be standing at the edge of the Bifrost to hold guard. He realized that Thor must have already begun addressing the Thing, had already tried to call Loki before. He was too lost in his thoughts to notice.

He lifted his hand and took Thor’s, sliding their fingers together and relishing in the feeling of their hearts beating in time. The rhythm was a tune that Loki would die for, and one he knew he could live by.

“My king,” Sif said, and of course it was her. She had hated Loki since they were children. At least she was showing Thor the respect he deserved. He could respect her a little for that. “I understand your… fondness for your brother, but have Loki’s past actions not spoken enough to the foolishness of his being near the throne?”

He felt the static of Thor’s fury ripple beneath his skin. Outside, the thunder rolled across the sky, deep and ponderous. A storm that would linger, not strike fast and fade. His brother had held onto this fury in silence for so long and now here was his chance to speak his piece.

Loki loved him for his desire to do this. Loved him for Thor’s love  _ for him _ . And that love was the same that he would have for Asgard. He would make a great king. Loki knew it like he knew the sun would rise and fire would burn and thunder would roll. Thor was always meant to be king.

His hand tightened around Thor’s in a gesture meant to soothe his fury, and then he pulled his hand from his brother's and took a step away, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"Sif is right,” he spoke quietly. He took a deep breath, pushed his shoulders back and stood straight, meeting his brother’s eyes. Thor’s expression was one of confusion, his hand held out as though he had intended to grasp Loki’s back before he had stepped out of reach.

“I cannot stand as your Advisor, Thor. The strike of this blade behind my teeth has drawn far too much blood.” He tried for a look of cruel disinterest but he knew it didn’t work. He could feel the burn in his eyes but stubbornly  _ refused _ to let the tears fall. He would  _ not _ weep before the Thing. They would hear him –  _ Thor _ would hear him – and they would not be swayed by emotions that a true prince should be better than to show.

He forced himself to meet his brother’s eyes steadily. He would not look away. He would not run. He would face his brother and his punishment, as he deserved, for his crimes.

“You might want to take the stairs to the left,” he said, forcing his voice into an emotionless tone to hold back the bile that rose in his throat at the taste of those hateful words on his lips for a second time. “Those were the words I spoke to the Kursed as it passed my cell in the dungeons of Asgard. The ones that directed it to the throne room, and the blade that it drove into your heart.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor will not stand for the people of Asgard continuing Odin's cruelty. And Loki hears an unexpected voice telling him that he is worthy to stand with his brother.

“You might want to take the stairs to the left,” Loki said, and Thor watched as he scrunched his nose and his lips thinned. He looked as though he were going to be sick. “Those were the words I spoke to the Kursed as it passed my cell in the dungeons of Asgard. The ones that directed it to the throne room, and the blade that it drove into your heart.”

The room was silent, the only sound Loki’s harsh breathing as he tried to keep himself under control, and Thor could feel the way his heart was racing in his palm.

“It was… it was me,” Loki whispered, finally looking up at Thor. “I sent it.”

The thunder rolling outside suddenly crashed, the steady rolling becoming violent and loud, lightning crackling and flashing along the edges of the black clouds.

“I’m sorry,” Loki breathed, and Thor could see the  _ fear _ in his eyes. Was… was Loki afraid of him?

“No.”

Thor turned his head to look at Heimdallr, Gungnir vibrating in his hand, the other still outstretched for Loki to take. He felt like a statue caught in a time loop. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.

“Heimdallr?” Frigga’s voice now, but Thor couldn’t look away from Heimdallr. Those golden eyes were shifting and moving, universes and galaxies whirling through them. “What have you seen?”

“I see all, Lady,” he said slowly, his quiet, deep voice echoing throughout the silent chamber with ease. “But I see  _ all _ that has been and will be.” He looked over to Loki who was frozen in place, his face pale and his eyes huge and wet. “You did not kill your brother.” When Loki looked like he was about to speak, Heimdallr held a hand up. “No, my Prince. You have made many mistakes, some with consequences more far-reaching than you ever intended or realised. But you did not do this.”

The storm outside hit a new peak as Thor gave up the pretence of control. He felt the lightning racing through his veins, the thunder rolling in his chest and he knew his eyes were shining with it. Loki’s heartbeat raced in his palm, and he pressed the Vegvisir against his own heartbeat, surprisingly still calm and steady for all that his rage was mounting.

“I will not hear this,” he boomed, and watched with pleasure as all the members of the Thing jumped at the power in his voice. “You think that I am a small boy still, seeking approval at Odin’s knee. But I am grown. I have  _ grown _ .  **_I am Asgard,_ ** ” he said, and moved forwards to rest his hand on Loki’s chest, right above his heart.

“You will not tell me, your  _ King _ , how I am to rule my realm,” Thor looked from face to face, looking for signs of mutiny. He could see the arguments forming in Týr’s mind and fixed his gaze steadily on him. The lightning crashed outside, and Thor gave Týr a cold smile. “I am King,” he repeated and saw the truth of his words as they dawned on Týr. “Odin sleeps, and Gungnir answered my call. The Nornir and Hliðskjálf themselves have spoken to me, and I am not going to allow myself to be diverted from my path.”

The chamber erupted into chaos at his words. The Thing were scrambling over one another to have their voices heard, the clamouring and yelling making Thor’s fingers twitch and the storm outside suddenly stopped. The clouds hung heavy and low, blacker than night, but the abrupt stop to the rolling and crashing of the thunder and lightning had his mother and brother looking to him in concern.

But Thor was past the point of listening to their quiet words and attempts to soothe him. Heimdallr stood silent and still, watching patiently as he ever did.

Thor left his hand on Loki’s chest and banged Gungnir against the marble floor, it’s sound drowning out the arguing, yelling and noise around him.   **_“SILENCE!”_ **

Sif - and of course it would be she - stepped forward and sketched a barely polite bow to him. “My King,” she said in a placating tone, her hands spread before her in a gesture of amenability that Thor saw right through. “He cannot be trusted. Loki LieSmith,  _ God of Lies, _ ” she spat with a venomous glance at Loki, and Thor felt the minute flinch his brother gave at her words. “You cannot expect us to simply stand aside and let you - ”

“I expect you to obey your King, or prepare for an extended stay in Asgard’s dungeons,  _ Lady _ Sif,” Thor hissed. “This is my hjartsláttur, and I will forever stand by him. Odin was a foolish man,” Thor stepped closer to Sif, his hand moving slowly from Loki’s chest to clasp at his hip and draw him closer. Thor felt the rage simmering inside of him wanting to escape, but he tamped down on it. The sky outside flashed now and then, but the thunder was silent.

“There is never supposed to be only  _ one _ wielder of the Hliðskjálf’s power. He called it  _ Odinforce _ because he was arrogant. And it destroyed him slowly over time for that arrogance. It is too much power for any one man.”

“But Odin is not a mere man!” Thor looked over at where Týr was standing, his arms crossed and his empty right sleeve neatly stitched shut to conceal his stump. “He is a God, and your father! He acted when it was necessary and removed the filth from Asgard that had no place here,” he said with a nasty smile at Loki. “Scum and the ill-bred bastards of a monster that should never have been brought here!”

“Perhaps if you didn’t attempt to put your hands into business that doesn’t concern you, you would still have both of yours,” Heimdallr said, and Frigga turned her head to hide a smile.

Týr looked like he’d bitten a lemon. “That is none of  _ your _ concern, Gatekeeper!”

“Actually,” Heimdallr’s voice was still calm and quiet, and the last of the lingering noise in the chamber ceased as they all listened. “There is nothing that happens in the nine realms that is not my concern. I see  _ all _ , Týr. I see the past, present and future.” He took a step towards Thor and went to one knee, clasping a fist above his heart. “I pledge my loyalty and allegiance to you, King Thor of Asgard,” he shifted slightly and inclined his head next to Loki. “And to you, my Prince. Advisor and true heartbeat to our King’s soul.”

Thor felt Loki stumble and braced his hip against Loki’s to keep him steady. “I thank you, Heimdallr,” he said with a respectful nod. Loki seemed unable to move, but Heimdallr took no notice nor offence.

“There has been an imbalance here,” he said to the gathered Thing. He glared at where Sif was now standing between Volstagg and Fandral, and gave a minute shake of his head when she looked to speak. “The power of Asgard has been slowly devouring my father’s mind. I will work to undo the wrongs that have been committed in the name of Asgard - in Odin’s name - but it will require a form of trust between us all.” He moved away from Loki, giving his brother a gentle nudge to stand by their mother.

The storms inside of him were raging, but he was calm on the surface and the sky outside reflected that. Thor was the Stormbringer, the God of Thunder. It would heed his command, and Gungnir would enforce that control. He looked out over the Thing, at the elderly faces that his father had chosen and sighed to himself.

“It is a new time for Asgard. Odin will sleep until such a time as he is prepared to move to Valhalla,” he said and stepped down the stairs to walk amongst the crowd. “You all have been loyal and trusted him, but I cannot allow such blind faith and devotion to cause dissent in my court.” Thor paused at the back of the chamber.

“Loki, Odinson, God of Mischief and Mother of Fenrisulfr, Jörmungandr, Hel and Sleipnir. You are my hjartsláttur, my Advisor and my soul.” He straightened his shoulders and smiled proudly at Loki. “And now, you are the worthy wielder of Mjolnir, Keeper of the heart of a dying Star.”

Thor bowed low and deeply, hand with the Vegvisir clasped firmly to his chest.

“My brother. Will you rule beside me as has been foretold?”

* * *

**** Loki stared at his brother where he stood at the back of the Thing, his hand holding Gungnir with the same ease that he had once held Mjolnir, and though the swing of statecraft was far different from the swing used on a battlefield, Loki had no doubt that Thor would perform precisely as well as he always had.

But this?

“This is madness, Thor.”

“Is it?” Thor asked him with a gentle smile. “Is it, Loki?”

Loki drew in a shuddering breath. He blinked harshly and tried to stem the tears in his eyes. He felt a few slip down his cheeks as he looked around. Sif still looked petulant, her arms crossed over her chest, glaring at him in a way he knew he was meant to feel as well as see. Týr looked murderous, although that was nothing new and so Loki’s eyes moved on.

There were others, many of them the older men who had served his father for centuries, who looked frustrated or worried with the turn of events. There were some, however, who looked as though they held a glimmer of hope within them for the first time in an eternity of hopelessness.

_ What is it they hope for?  _ he wondered.

**_“You will need to be sure to ask them, Mama.”_ **

Loki turned his head to look at Hel. She stood beside Frigga, her form a mere silhouette of shadow outlined by the ghostly shine of Yggdrasil’s magic. He could see the seidr, a dark purple, almost black, that twisted around her like oil in water, and knew that her visage was only for him. It was the same projection magic that Frigga had used to speak to him in his cell, taught to her on a cold winter night when the All-Mother had asked Loki to lead her by the hand across Yggdrasil’s branches so that she might see her granddaughter. It had been the same path that Frigga had ridden Sleipnir across when she traveled to Niflheim to speak with Lady Death and broker a deal, and thus Hel was crowned a queen in her own right.

**_“You know that this is why Uncle wants you as his Advisor, don’t you?”_ ** Hel asked him softly. She was twirling her dress back and forth. It was new – he could see the edges of pink that flickered in and out of focus in her projection. He would need to remember to compliment her own it later.  **_“You see things, Mama. When you look at people, you see them. You see that they love and hurt and want. Uncle tries, but his eyes were meant to catch blades that draw blood.”_ ** Her lips turned down into a frown and there was a shimmer of tears across the shadow of her face.  **_“But you know the blades that ignore the blood and cut deeper. The wounds that can’t be healed with herbs and time. You know people_ ** _ need _ **_._ **

**_“Uncle will be a great king, Mama. The greatest in all the Nine Worlds._** _But he can be better._ **_If you’re there, Mama, he won’t just be a great king.”_**

_ What do you mean, Hel? _

Hel only smiled at him and disappeared from sight, her projection fading away.

What had she meant, that Thor wouldn’t just be a great king if Loki was there. What else was there for him to be that he wasn’t? He was already a great warrior, already the best brother Loki could have asked for. What was it that Loki could offer that someone else could not?

**_“Is yourself not enough, Mama? It was always enough for us.”_ **

Loki drew a breath as he thought. What was it that was holding him back? What was it that made him so sure that it was a terrible idea for him to sit beside Thor?

The many bodies that had littered Midgard after the Battle of New York came to mind, but that hadn’t been his fault. He had been nothing more than a weapon in the hands of the Mad Titan. It  _ hadn’t been his fault. _

The two guards that had fallen during his attempt to delay Thor’s coronation  _ had _ been his fault. They had died because of his negligence and if that was the way he would assist Thor in ruling Asgard, then he had no right to even breathe in the same room as Hliðskjálf sat. He had done what he could to mitigate the pain of their death for those that had been left behind, but as Loki knew, that sort of pain was not something that could be fixed with reassurances that they sat in Valhalla.

Heimdallr stepped forward then, until he was standing mere feet from Loki. “If I may, my prince?”

Loki looked up at him wearily. Why was Heimdallr speaking for him? Heimdallr didn’t trust him. What was his endgame?

The Gatekeeper gave him a knowing look. “We have  _ all _ done things we regret, my prince. Some of us have stood by and let things happen that we knew should not, and we will carry that regret with us always. But it must not prevent us from performing our duties.” His golden eyes met Loki’s and for a moment, Loki could see the strain of  _ knowing _ in that galactic gaze. “Should we not, instead, work to be better than before?”

“Why now?” Loki asked, before he could think to silence his tongue. “You stood against me before, you were certain of my… my betrayal. Why would you stand for me  _ now?” _

The Gatekeeper studied him for a long moment, his gaze as penetrating as the whole power of the Bifrost, and Loki almost feared to meet it. Still, he did not lower his eyes. He needed to know why. He needed to know why he was suddenly worthy when he was same person he had  _ always _ been.

“I see all, my prince,” Heimdallr said quietly, and his voice was filled with regret. “But I am not greater a creature than you are. No greater than any other man or god. I have made mistakes. I once stood silent and watched as a mother’s children were torn from him and did nothing. Just the same, I once saw a power that I feared and turned on it, frightened of the unknown as a child is of the dark.

“But I saw you.” And here his voice rose, loud enough for the whole Thing to hear. “I saw you after you heard of your brother’s death, and I saw your journey to avenge him and the grief you wore as you wear his colors. I have seen you, and what fears and doubts I had have been allayed. Yours is a mask that even my eyes struggle to see beyond, Silvertongue, but I know you now.” He pressed his hand to his heart and bowed deeply. “And I will serve you ever as I should have done, my prince.”

Loki stared at Heimdallr, bowed low before him.

The Guardian of the Bifrost, the Gatekeeper, the one who had known all along that it was Loki who had resulted in the deaths of the guards, in Thor’s banishment, in the potential war with Jotunheim. Heimdallr, who could see easily into the dungeons and would have seen Loki’s betrayal, and yet claimed that it was not his fault.  _ That he had not killed his brother. _

Mjolnir’s wintry storm trembled in his mind and Loki pressed a hand to where she hung from his belt. Thor’s heartbeat throbbed against the blade and she sang to him, a song as sweet as he ever heard, and he felt the tears slip freely down his cheeks.

If Heimdallr and his mother thought him as worthy as Mjolnir, and if his brother, who he had done  _ unspeakable  _ things to thought him worthy, didn’t blame him,  _ still wanted him _ , then how could Loki ever turn away?

If he could take his mistakes and  _ do better,  _ what right did he have to turn away, when all he knew could help Asgard?

Loki turned to Thor, ignoring the other people in the Thing. “I accept,” he said, and cleared his throat. “Thor… Brother, I will stand with you, serve Asgard at your side and at your back, and be your eyes and your voice and your ear. I accept, my king.”

* * *

Thor thought for sure his grin was going to split his face apart. To hear Loki accept his position, the only rightful place for him in the Realms made his heart feel lighter than it had in  _ years. _ He could feel Loki’s heartbeat - racing and leaping as his brother looked at him through teary eyes.

“I knew you would,” Thor’s voice was soft, but he knew Loki had heard him regardless. In a few swift steps he was yanking his little brother in close for a tight embrace, burying his face in Loki’s hair as Loki hid his own wet face in Thor’s neck. “Easy, little brother,” he whispered, and moved them subtly, so Loki would be at his back, a moment’s reprieve to pull himself back together as they parted.

“Council,” he called out, spinning to deliberately flare the forest-green of his cloak. “This is a new dawn for Asgard. There is reparation work to be done and treaties to be revisited, but for now - ” Thor looked over at his mother, at Heimdallr and Loki, and saw the pride and approval on their faces “- for now, 'tis well past the time that the King took his throne.”

He moved slowly towards the dais that Hliðskjálf sat upon and paused before it, Gungnir trembling in one hand, and Loki’s heartbeat in the other. If he sat…  _ when _ he sat, the magic of Asgard, the power of the force that the Nornir had blessed them with would be his. He was Asgard - but Asgard was  _ him _ . It would be his authority now to rule them fairly, to listen to their grievances and joy. He would decide if war was needed or a conversation over a flask would suffice.

This was… all of a sudden too much. He knew that Loki would feel as his heart began to race, and his palms to sweat. Gungnir crackled with the bright blue and white of his lightning as Thor had his doubt.

Surely he was entitled to just a moment’s hesitation.

He’d taken the throne from Odin without thought for the consequences - not really.

He’d forced his brother into a position, a relationship with him that would last now until the universe itself ceased to.

He’d been selfish, so selfish, but couldn’t find it in himself to feel regret.

“Am I making the right choice?” he murmured to himself. A hand landed firmly on his shoulder and Thor instantly melted under the touch, the low rumbling that had started back up outside once again fading away.

“You can do this, Thor,” Loki said quietly in his ear. “We are all of us, here with you.”

Thor nodded, not trusting himself to look at Loki. He knew if he did, he would want to hide his face away in his brother’s cloak and pretend to simply be children again. To pester Cook Kanil for apple tarts, to chase one another through the halls of the palace and the garden’s their mother tended. To have life be simple and taken care of.

Instead, he glanced out the massive window beside the throne and looked at Asgard. At the golden city gleaming beneath the almost pitch-black clouds that hung low and heavy over her. He could feel the people in the streets, looking up at the palace, waiting for the signal that something had indeed happened. All had heard the storms breaking yesterday, seen the destruction wrought as Gungnir had wrested itself free of Odin’s sleeping grasp.

And now… now he was King.

“You can do this Thor,” Loki repeated, and gave his shoulder a squeeze before stepping backwards as Thor turned finally to look at him. He winked and flourished his cloak ridiculously as he bowed. Thor could no more help the snort of laughter than he could to take his next breath and the smirk that Loki shot him told him it had been a deliberate ploy to drag him out of his own mind.

“Very well.”

Loki stepped back to stand with his arm threaded through their mother’s, Heimdallr strong and silent at his other side. Thor could hear the whispering of the Thing, of the Warriors Three and the gathered council.

He stepped forward, and Gungnir pulled him towards the throne. The spear was almost vibrating too hard to keep a grip on. Thor took one last look out the window and took a deep breath as he sat upon Hliðskjálf, banging Gungnir on the floor as he did.

The storm outside broke, thunder rolling and booming as lightning flashed and cracked across the inky sky. He could hear the cheering of his people - _ his people _ \- in the streets as they celebrated the Stormbringer’s ascension to the throne.

All of Asgard, all the realms, rushed before his eyes and raced through his veins. His lightning sparked and danced across his skin and flew from his fingertips to leave scorch marks on the floor. He could feel the pressure, the heat, of it forming a crown upon his head and knew that his burial braids had been flung free.

“Hail Thor, Stormbringer. Hail Thor, God of Thunder,” Heimdallr called out, and as one the gathered crowd dropped to one knee, fists pressed to their heart’s, calling the words out in response. “Hail, to the new and rightful King of Asgard.”

“Hail, Thor. My brother and my king,” Loki whispered, with a smile.

“Hail, Thor, my son,” Frigga’s tears were running fast and unchecked but she looked happy.

Thor felt and heard it all, cries of “ _ Hail! _ ” and “ _ King Thor!” _ echoing up from the streets below, and smiled.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor tells Loki of his intent to free his brother's children, and Loki tells Thor of Ragnarok.

Loki snapped awake, choking off a scream and rolling over to bury his face in his pillow. His fingers twisted in the sheet that was tangled around his legs and he struggled to pull it free even as his breath shuddered in his lungs. He reached up with his left hand and touched his lips, felt the flesh free of wires and the small bumps of scar tissue, old and hidden by his glamour, but still always there. He opened his lips and bit down on the tip of one finger hard enough to hurt, and didn’t wake up.

Curling his arms beneath the pillow, he pressed his face into the soft fabric and tried to calm his racing heart.

He could feel Thor’s heart beating slow and steady in his palm. His brother was no doubt still asleep and he didn’t want to wake him for something as silly as a nightmare about something that would  _ never _ happen.

They’d both had a terribly long day. Thor taking the throne hadn’t been the end of it. He’d needed to make a short address to the people, if for no other reason than to say that the court would not be open to the public that day so they could adjust to changes, but if there was an emergency, the people were to inform the guard immediately.

There had thankfully been no emergencies, just a lot of running around. The Thing had dismissed with little trouble after Thor sat upon the throne. With Hliðskjálf and Gungnir both accepting Thor and that impressive show of seidr from his brother that had a crown of lightning dancing about his head, there was little anyone could do but pledge their fealty.

Their mother had taken charge then, which had honestly been a relief. Both Thor and Loki were still exhausted from the earlier events of the day. They had both managed to make themselves presentable for the Thing, but both of them were in desperate need of a bath and something to eat.

Frigga had led them to the kitchens, where Cook Kanil threatened the both of them with a soup ladle should they ever try such an act as dying again, or getting locked up in the dungeons. Both Loki and Thor had quailed beneath her, promising that they wouldn’t dare, and she had sniffed at them and handed them each a bowl of stew and some bread.

Loki, who hadn’t expected to be able to eat more than a few bites, had eaten his bowl almost as quickly as Thor – an impressive feat to be sure. Cook Kanil had shooed them off then, claiming she needed to prepare a feast to celebrate Thor and Loki’s rise to King and Advisor. Thor had dared to ask if there would be apple tarts and she had thrown a whisk at him. “Get outta my kitchen, ‘fore I have ye sittin’ the corner, peelin’ potatoes with the lads!”

Frigga had thrown them upon Eir’s tender mercies, which were non-existent, and the palace healer had swooped down upon them like a particularly cranky goose. She had demanded Loki remove both of their illusions when Thor had only given her a blank look upon her asking. Loki had done so and when she’d caught sight of their wounds, healed to mere scratches by that point, she had circled them like an angry wolf, tutting and muttering to herself.

She’d demanded they strip, laughed at their complaints, and demanded it again, threatening to do it for them if they didn’t hop to. Thor had been uncharacteristically slow to remove his clothing, and when he had pulled off his tunic, Loki had seen why.

Eir had studied the scar with the eye of the greatest healer in Asgard, and with the gaze of the woman who had been their healer all through their childhood.

“Truly, a blessing of the Norns that you are with us, my king,” she had said, and after checking that he wasn’t bleeding anywhere, she had turned to Loki. The cut Malekith had left across his chest and at his temple were almost completely healed, but she nonetheless smeared a cream over them to prevent infection, then sent them off to bed as if they were children.

The draw of bed was too much to deny and both of them had left the healer’s wing with a weary excitement for their sleep clothes. The only hesitation had come when they reached the corridor where there rooms lay and Loki realized they would need to separate.

Thor hadn’t been out of his sight since he got him back and the idea of being even just a room away from him was almost too much to bear.

So he did what he always did when he was frightened.

He bid his brother a goodnight and all but fled into his bedroom, locking the door behind him so he could not open it immediately and leap upon his brother like a dog whose owner had stepped outside for a mere moment. The fact that he had stood with his back pressed to the door for an embarrassingly-long time would be something only he and Heimdallr knew, and the Gatekeeper would tell no one, he was sure.

Eventually, he had managed to push himself away from the door and staggered to the bath. A servant had already been to his quarters. The tub was filled with steaming water.

A brief touch of his seidr to the water cooled it to a temperature that would not scald his skin, sensitive to the heat as it was. He sank gratefully into the bath, taking just a moment to lean his back against the tub and relax for the first time in what seemed like months.

His exhaustion was heavy, though, and he had turned soon enough to scrubbing the dirt and sweat from his skin. He washed his hair and used his seidr to dry himself as he stepped from the tub. A pair of sleep trousers was all that he’d had strength for before he dropped into his bed and fell asleep almost instantly.

Now, he pulled back the curtains in the windows to peer outside. The sky was still caught in the dark of deep night. He might have slept a few hours, but no more than that before the nightmare had woken him.

Rolling over and breathing out a sigh, Loki reassured himself again that such a thing could never happen, but the fear still clung to him. He still remembered easily the feel of the needle piercing his lips, the cruel smile on Brokki’s face as the dwarf pulled the threads tight. Throughout the whole process, Odin had watched impassively as the LieSmith paid for his tongue.

In his dream, Odin had woken from the OdinSleep, and he had taken Gungnir back from Thor. His actions had been as quick as they severe. Loki was locked again in his cell in the dungeons, only this time his lips were sewn shut so he could not speak even if anyone managed to visit him. Sleipnir was banished from Asgard, much as Thor had been, but lost in the crowds of Midgard with a face that Loki did not know, he had been lost even to Heimdallr’s sight.

And then there had been nothing. No visitors, no news. He remained a prisoner in his cage with no one to speak to, not knowing what had happened to his other children, to his mother, to Thor. He had only sat in the center of his prison and watched the dust cover the floor of his prison as the ages passed and no one came.

Loki pressed his palm to his chest and focused on the steady beat of Thor’s heart, letting it calm his own. He lay there, thinking of the scar that lay over his brother’s heart. His body had been burned. Frigga had been the one to fire the arrow. Hel, however, had not reshaped him a new body, fresh of scars, but brought his back from the ashes.

To what purpose?

And what of the other scars he had seen? He hadn’t spoken of them and though he was sure Eir had seen them, she also hadn’t said anything. Reaching up, Loki traced his lips with his fingers, feeling the lumps of scar tissue where the threads had been pulled from his lips by Thor, his fingers as steady as he could make them and his tears a sharp pain at Loki’s mouth, somehow a relief for all that each one had hurt terribly. Odin had appeared impassive as Loki’s mouth was sewn shut, but his brother had cried.

Loki finally pushed himself from the bed and left the room. He didn’t bother to put a shirt on. Only the guards moved among the halls at this hour and the one that stood at the end of the hall merely nodded at Loki as he stepped from his room. He made his way to Thor’s door and slipped quietly inside. He could hear his brother’s steady breathing as he moved through the dark room, following a path he remembered more easily than he did the layout of his own.

Loki summoned a dim orb of light and left it to hover in the air as he climbed onto the bed. His brother was lying on his side, his right hand curled into a fist and pressed against his heart, and Loki could still feel that steady beat in his own palm.

He lay down next to Thor and studied his brother’s face. He looked peaceful in sleep, much as he had when they were young, before life had grown complicated and difficult and every question seemed to have too many wrong answers and none that were right. The scars around his brother’s mouth looked centuries old, but Loki knew that they hadn’t been there when Thor brought him back to Asgard after New York. They were also eerily familiar. Loki had spent months staring at himself in the mirror at odd moments after that incident, disgusted by the reminder of how weak he was. Thor’s scars were a mirror image of his own.

Had something happened to Thor that his mouth was bound as Loki’s had been? Had someone dared to hurt him? Or was this a byproduct of the bond that had formed between them? The one that Loki had begun to wonder the true strength of. His brother was a magnificent warrior and a powerful tactician, but even he could not cheat death.

But a bond that tied their lives together? An apple of Iðunn shared between two brothers that twisted their souls so deeply together that Thor’s heart beat with his might just be powerful enough to call those souls back together across an uncrossable chasm. Had his words reached Thor as he sat in Valhalla? Had his brother heard the song he sang from within his prison? Had his Hugr walked with Thor to the door of Odin’s Halls? Had he been worthy, too, of that?

“Did you hear me, Brother?” he whispered softly to Thor’s sleeping form. He reached out a hand and touched the spot on Thor’s head where a thick lock of hair had been sheared away. It would have a chance to grow back now, to fill in the hair that Frigga had cut from his head for Loki, and the evidence of Thor’s loss would be hidden from his head just as the burial braids had been shaken from it.

Loki reached up and touched the braid that sat behind his ear, the thick strands of his brother’s golden hair twisted with his. Like their souls, bound together for eternity.

He closed his eyes, ignored the tears that slipped down onto the pillow beneath his head, and clutched the braid in the hand that beat with his brother’s heart. “Don’t ever leave me, brother,” he whispered. “Please don’t ever leave me behind.”

* * *

 

Thor heard his door open and his brother slip inside. Felt the gentle fingers in his hair, and heard Loki’s whispered words.

“I heard you,” he mumbled, and reached out with his eyes still closed to pull Loki into his chest, tucking his brother’s head underneath his chin and wrapping his arms about him. “Your daughter heard you, and she taught me to listen. I shall never leave you, Loki.  _ Ég elska þig bróðir, _ ” he kissed his brother’s hair and shifted them around to a more comfortable position, Loki’s hands wound in his sleep shirt, and his head pressed against Thor’s throat.

He felt Loki’s tears on his skin, a warm, damp spot and sighed softly. The tune he’d heard in Niflheim, and in his dreams of his brother was what he found himself softly humming to Loki, wanting to soothe his little brother’s distress. He could hear the long distant echoing of drums, of the sound of Heimdallr’s horn somewhere, and hummed to the words his brother had sung in the emptiness of his cell.

The night passed long and slow, neither he nor Loki ever truly finding rest again, but they dressed and headed to breakfast together regardless. Loki had reached over and grasped Thor’s hand tightly within his own as they left, and Thor had felt relieved at the gesture, needing the anchor for himself. Thor felt a little out of place as they walked the halls to the dining room, the servants and guards alike all bowing deeply, respectful murmurs of “My King” and “Good Morning your Highness, Prince Loki” following them as they walked.

“It is an odd feeling,” he said to Loki as the passed another small group of handmaidens who’d all stopped to bow politely. Loki made an inquisitive noise, and Thor continued. “To be so greatly respected by them all, when mere days ago… why, I was dead, you were lost and Odin slept on.” He shook his head, the light feeling of his hair loose about his face after so long braided back in heavy burial braids, adding to his sensation of being adrift.

“I just wonder when it will stop feeling like a dream,” he finished softly as they approached the dining hall. The guards bowed deeply, and opened the doors for them, respectful greetings and more bowing following. Frigga stood as they entered, but - thankfully - did not bow. She simply smiled and held her arms out to them both.

“My boys,” she greeted them warmly. “Come and join me, hm?”

Loki reluctantly let go of Thor’s hand to hurry over to his mother, hugging her tightly to him and kissing her cheek. She beamed up at him and shooed Loki to his seat, his favourite blend of tea already brewed in the little silver teapot in front of his plate. Frigga held out her arms again, and Thor almost flung himself into them, his mother’s warm hands pressing on the knots and tension in his shoulders as he pushed his head into her shoulder, sighing in relief and exhaustion.

“Are you alright, Thor?” He nodded, not wanting to ever move his head again and Loki laughed from behind them.

“He’s just overwhelmed, Mother,” he piped up in between sips of his tea. Thor lifted his head just enough to lazily poke his tongue out at him, before flopping back down into Frigga’s soft, shawl covered shoulder. “I do believe our good King there rather thought he’d wake today to find it had all been a rather intense dream.”

Thor mumbled something entirely unflattering about his brother’s ears into Frigga’s shoulder before lifting his head with a sigh. She just smiled at him and squeezed his cheeks between her hands. “You are going to be a marvelous King, my little Storm,” she whispered. Thor felt his cheeks flush and he ducked his head, moving around her to tumble bonelessly into his seat.

“So,” Frigga said when they had all served themselves, her own plate filled mostly with fresh fruit and sweet breads. Loki was devouring his eggs with single-minded determination, and Thor was breaking his bread rolls into bite-sized pieces and stuffing them in his mouth. “We have much to get done today, and in the days coming. Becoming King is more than speeches and asserting yourself before the Thing, darling,” she looked over at Thor, and he grinned around his full mouth.

“Aye m’er, I und’and,” his words were garbled by the food in his mouth, and Frigga sighed. Loki snorted and rolled his eyes, but never stopped shovelling his eggs down.

“Oh Thor,” Frigga’s voice was fondly exasperated. “You really must improve your manners.”

“He can’t help it mother,” Loki smirked, finally pushing his empty plate away and pulling the teapot closer. “He’s always been a big oaf. Now he’s just going to have more witnesses to it.”

Thor laughed, immediately moving to clap a hand over his mouth to stop the spray of crumbs as he chuckled. He swallowed and winked at Loki, warmed down to his toes to see his brother smiling and looking so well. He felt just a bit of that warmth dissipate when he met his mother’s pensive gaze though.

“Fret not, Mother,” he poured himself a mug of the strong black coffee that was steaming in its own pot beside Loki’s horrid tea. He breathed in the smell and the steam before he took a huge, bracing mouthful and relished the feel of it warming his insides. He sat back, cup cradled in his hands and smiled at his mother. “Odin’s sleep will not be interrupted. I will not forcibly wake him, but neither will I allow him to awaken soon,” he said. “I must do what is right by not only Loki and myself, but also the people of Asgard, and the other realms.”

He could feel as Frigga watched him as he finished his coffee and taunted Loki about the ridiculous green tea he was still sipping away at. Nearly three hundred years since he’d found that blend, and Loki still drank exactly two cups every morning. Thor thought it just tasted of bitter grass, but then, Loki had always had more refined tastes.

When next he looked at his mother though, she was smiling and the happy sparkle in her eye had returned.

Loki looked tired still, but less like he was struggling under some unseen weight. Thor propped his chin on his fist and stared a moment. “Brother,” he asked quietly, “Where is Fenrisulfr and Jörmungandr? Odin has never once revealed to me their location. I would free them, today.”

Thor ignored the way his Mother stiffened in her seat, his attention focused solely on Loki. He watched his little brother’s face drain of its colour, and his hands trembled around his teacup. Thor stood, moved quickly to kneel by Loki’s side and took the cracked cup from his hands. He threaded his steady, warm fingers through Loki’s shaking and cool ones, pulling them into his chest to rest above his heart.

“Be still, Little Loki,” he whispered, stroking his thumbs across Loki’s knuckles to soothe the shaking and panic he could see building. Loki’s eyes were wide and he looked like he was but a moment away from leaping out the nearest window and hiding somewhere Thor would not be able to get to. He could feel his heartbeat racing in his palm, frantic and wild like a bird’s. “I have you brother, and I am not going to leave you. And you will not leave me, we are together. Breathe, Loki,” he kept the constant stream of reassurances whispered and calm until Loki had himself a little more under control, his own heartbeat strong and steady.

He refused to relinquish his grip on Thor’s hands though. “I… they were hidden, but I found them,” he eventually said, his voice so low and broken sounding that Thor’s stomach clenched in sympathy.

How had he ever thought his father to be wise in his decisions when Loki had suffered so? To have the babes of his own flesh torn from him for no crime worse than existing? The sky outside the windows darkened, and thunder rolled softly down the hills surrounding Asgard’s city. Thor’s rage was a quiet, simmering thing. He knew that he walked a fine line without Gungnir in his hand to help calm the tempest within him, but he leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Loki’s and let his breathing match that of his brother’s.

“We are a frightful mess together, Thor,” Loki joked, but Thor heard the underlying worry, the guilt -  _ still so much guilt Loki? _ \- in his tone. After everything, after all Thor’s pledges and decrees, his vows and confessions, his little brother still feared being left behind… being left alone to once again face a world without his big brother beside him.

“Aye, but we are handsome, so we can be allowed to be so,” he sighed and though he kept his eyes closed, he could feel Loki’s lips twitch up into a smile and heard the stifled sound of his Mother’s laughter. “And we’re together, which is all that matters. I vowed to give you back your children, Loki. Trust me, and I will do so. There is naught else in all the Realms that would hold my attention until you are holding them again.”

“I have always trusted you,” Loki told his brother softly as he kept his eyes closed, his forehead pressed to Thor’s. He could feel his brother’s heart beating steadily in time with his own. “Jörmungandr lies in Midgard. Odin threw him down as--”  _ As he threw you down.  _ “--into the sea and bound him there, but he grew.” He smiled with pride. “He is so large now, Thor. My little boy. He can circle the whole of Midgard in his form, and he broke through the chains that bound him centuries ago. He sleeps often in the depths of the seas, too deep for the humans to reach, only rising occasionally or when there is need.”

Loki had thought of his serpent child often while he was under Thanos’ control. When he had arrived to Midgard, he could feel the presence of Jörmungandr everywhere, calling to him from every inch of water on the planet, for he had become king of them all. He had so much wanted to go to his son, to beg for his assistance, but he had  _ feared _ . What if Jörmungandr rose from the sea at his mother’s call and Thanos demanded he take Jor’s life, as he had taken the lives of so many already? He would not have been able to resist the command to kill his own child, just as he had not been able to resist the command to take Thor out of the picture.

Or worse, what if Jörmungandr rose from the depths and Thanos decided he wanted the great serpent under his control, as well?  _ That _ had been a risk that Loki could not take. He would never subject any of his children to the cruelties of the Mad Titan or the Infinity Stones. Not so long as he could help it. Not so long as he drew breath.

A sudden thought had him jerking back from Thor, opening his eyes. “Jörmungandr doesn’t grasp his tail,” he told his brother desperately, almost shouting it. “He can circle the world but he doesn’t form the ouroboros with his body, Thor, I swear to you. He would never--”

“Loki,” Thor said, grasping at his brother’s hands, but Loki shook them away, determined to make him understand.

“He would never hurt you, Thor. She lied. She  _ must _ have lied. Jor would never hurt you. I swear it. On my life, brother, I swear it.”

Thor finally gave up trying to catch Loki’s hands and grasped his face, forcing him to still. Loki whimpered in his grasp, tears slipping from his eyes as they had  _ that day,  _ when he stood before the All-Father and begged for his children back.

_ “You would have me release them, knowing what will happen if I do?” _

_ “Nothing will happen, All-Father. I swear it.” Loki gripped his hands together to keep them still, to keep from throwing himself to the ground and groveling. “They mean no one any harm. They are only  _ different _.” _

_ “They are monsters, Loki,” Odin said, staring down at him from his throne. “I have heard the counsel of Völuspá and I know what will happen if your children are released. I will not risk Thor’s life for a serpent, nor my own for a cur. I have permitted your mother to give your daughter a crown, but she will remain in Niflheim. The dead do not belong amongst the living.” _

_ “And what of Sleipnir?” Loki demanded, his fury getting the better of him. “Is he to remain only because he is useful to you, as a goblet is useful to a sot, and to be thrown away when all is done?” _

_ Odin banged Gungnir against the floor, the shockwave of its power staggering Loki. “Enough! I have spoken and it will be as I have commanded. The answer is no.” _

_ “But, Father--” _

_ “No, Loki.” _

“Loki,” Thor called, running his thumbs under Loki’s eyes to brush away his tears. Loki looked up at him, to see concern burning in his brother’s eyes. “I do not understand, brother. What is it that you speak of?” Loki tried to pull away. “No, brother, do not flee from me. Stay.” He cupped Loki’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Tell me, hjartsláttur.”

Loki drew a shuddering breath and began to speak. “Odin received a summons from a völva and traveled to Járnviðr to speak with her. There, she told him many things of the past and the present, and of things to come in the future. She told him of Ragnarök. Jormugandr, the world-serpent, who circles Midgard and bites his own tail, forming an ouroboros. Upon the release of his tail, Ragnarök would begin, and Fenrisulfr would break his chains. Odin would ride Sleipnir to face Fenrisulfr, and in the ensuing battle, Odin would fall, devoured whole by the Vánagandr.”

“Do not call him that, Loki,” Thor whispered softly. “Your children are not monsters. I know this.”

Loki swallowed but could say nothing to this. “The völva spoke of you and how you would ride to Midgard to face Jormugandr, to defend the humans and the world you have put under your protection. You slay him--”

“I wouldn’t,” Thor hissed.

“--and he k-kills you in turn,” Loki choked out. “He poisons you with his bite and you take nine steps, one for each of the worlds in Yggdrasil’s branches, and you fall.” Was he destined always to be the reason for his brother’s death? His mistakes or his words or even his children? “But it isn’t true, Thor, I swear it. Jor would never hurt you.”

“I did not for one moment think that he would.” His brother ran his thumbs gently across Loki’s cheekbones. “They are a part of you, Loki, and you would never willingly cause me harm. I knew that before you ever said such a thing.”

Loki thought for a long moment. “I do not recall ever saying such a thing.” Not aloud. He had thought it, of course, and felt it, and wished it often in the  _ days  _ that it took to fall through the void, his thoughts whirling through all of his terrible mistakes, remembering the feeling in his own chest as his mortal brother lay dead on the dirt of Midgard, killed as much by Loki’s own hand as by the Destroyer.

“Your heart came to me, brother.” Thor’s voice cracked. “When I was doubting and my own grief dared to overwhelm me, your soul came to mine. You told me not to fear you, as though you thought I ever had.” Loki sobbed once, biting his own lip to stop his crying. “Your children are a part of you, my hjartsláttur. I have no reason to fear them, no matter what Odin might have thought or said.” He twisted their heart-bound hands together. “Where is Fenrisulfr, Loki? Where is my nephew?”

“He is imprisoned on the island of Lyngvi, within the lake Amsvartnir. I found him, but I could not pass. The All-Father erected magic around the lake that forbids me entry.” He had tried. He had tried for so long, tearing at the magic with his own, desperate to reach his son as he cried within his prison, but he had not been able to break through. No matter what he did, he couldn’t reach him. He did not even know if his words had made it to his son’s ears, shouted from the shore, or if his wolf child thought that his mother had abandoned him there.

“All because he feared his own death?” Thor asked, abhorred. Loki pressed his hands over Thor’s. “No longer, brother,” he said, releasing Loki’s face to entwine their fingers. “I swear to you, by the end of this day, your children will be back within your arms.”

Frigga, who had remained silent through the tale, now stroked a hand down Loki’s cheek. “My little raven,” she said softly, and he looked over to see that there were tears on her face, “I can promise that such visions as these would have come to me had the Norns sworn them true. Ragnarök and the death of your brother and your children has never been shown to me, because it does not exist. Not in this world or any other.” She rested her fingertips against his jaw. “My darling boy.” She looked to Thor, touched his cheek with her own, and her eyes filled with the fire of a Shield-Maiden trained by the Valkyrie, a Warrior Queen, and a mother. “Now go and get my grandchildren.”   



	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To the seas of Midgard, the cruel shores of the Amsvartnir, and Niflheim itself, Thor and Loki break the chains that bind Loki's children and finally bring them home.

Midgard’s oceans were an impressive sight, Thor could admit that. The place where they stood now was a small, uninhabited island in the middle of the largest. Loki had told him Jörmungandr was in each and every body of water, but Thor wanted to give his nephew a chance to come to them in a size of his choosing. Loki had told him as they walked to the Bifrost that Jör would shift his body to a size that he felt most comfortable in, but for a serpent who could circle the world Thor thought that surely as large as possible would be most comfortable?

He could also admit to a certain amount of trepidation at the their quest. It had been… longer then he would ever care to admit since he’d laid eyes on his little nephew, and he was afraid perhaps he’d been forgotten.

**_“He hasn’t forgotten you.”_ ** Thor turned his head to see Hel leaning against a nearby palm, her form that of a grown woman this time, hair loose and wild about her shoulders and her dress long and black, tattered but still beautiful. She was staring out over the ocean with a pensive look in her eyes, and Thor nodded at her.  **_“I have visited all my siblings. I refused to leave them alone to suffer. As soon as I was strong enough to project,”_ ** she waved a hand down her body in example,  **_“I began to do so. Jör has long been interested in you, and stories of your’s and Mama’s exploits and adventures have kept him amused all these years. I wish you luck, Uncle.”_ ** An icy touch to his cheek, there and gone in an instant, and Hel vanished.

“Thor?” Loki’s voice was strained, his eyes moving constantly. “Brother, are you well?”

Thor waved a hand and moved to join Loki at the water’s edge. “Call your son, Loki.” He waited until Loki had waded out to his waist before he spoke again. “Be calm, little brother,” he said and pressed his hand to his heart, trying to help Loki to calm his own. Loki gave a jerky nod and placed his hands in the water. He watched as Loki moved his hands and called out to his son in a language he could barely understand.

There was nothing for a long, long moment.

And then, the ocean began to churn and bubble as though it was boiling. The waves rose and crested, crashing along the beach he stood on with increasing size. Loki remained in the ocean, the turbulent waters not moving him at all. He simply stood, unmovable and waiting.

Thor noticed the odd shape in the water first. It shimmered like crystal beneath the water, bigger than anything Thor had ever seen. It undulated and moved almost like the water itself. A huge pair of fins broke the surface, followed quickly by an enormous head. Pale green scales mingled with sapphire blue, white and any number of other colours Thor couldn’t put a name to. Green eyes that were the exact shade of Loki’s own - so young, and yet so  _ old _ \- blinked once, twice, and Thor felt Loki’s heart stutter.

“ _ Jörmungandr _ !” Loki’s voice cracked in the middle, but Thor called no attention to it as his brother reached out with shaking hands towards his son. “Jörmungandr, come here!”

That massive head swiveled and Thor saw the very instant he saw his mother. The enormous shape in the water thrashed and shifted, and Thor heard an almighty splashing as Loki disappeared from view.

“Loki!” He couldn’t help the panicked tone to his scream, but thoughts of Loki being drowned, being  _ lost _ to him were the first things to come to his mind. “ _ LOKI!” _

“I-I’m here, Thor!” Loki’s voice was hoarse, and he was coughing but his arms were wrapped around his son’s smaller body, coils looped and laying all over him as Loki ran tender hands over every inch of Jörmungandr he could reach. The great serpent’s head was pressed firmly against Loki’s cheek, forked tongue flickering all over his face as Loki whispered words Thor couldn’t hear to him.

Loki moved slowly out of the water, Jör wrapped tightly around him and walked over to Thor, a grin the likes of which Thor hadn’t seen on his brother’s face in nearly a thousand years lighting him up and making him seem so much younger.

“Jör,” Loki said softly, “Are you going to greet your Uncle?”

Thor watched Jörmungandr’s eyes blink slowly at him, and he reached out with shaking hands for his nephew. The last time he’d held him, the serpent had been such a tiny thing, his scales still soft and his eyes barely able to focus. Thor had been able to hold him in one hand as he’d crooned - slightly out of tune - Asgardian lullabies to him. He’d never admit to having a favourite, but Jör had always had a special place in his heart. There was just something so  _ endearing _ about him.

“Hello my little  _ bróðursonur _ ,” he whispered and smiled at Jörmungandr. “Oh… I have missed you, small one.”

_ “I am not so small anymore, Uncle! Look at how many times I can do  _ **_this_ ** _!”  _ Thor snorted as Jörmungandr wound himself about Loki’s waist and wiggled his tail.

“Will you come and give your Uncle a hug?” Jörmungandr nodded and in a few short movements, he was wound all about Thor’s torso, the twin fins on his head pressed flat as he rubbed his head along Thor’s jaw, his forked tongue flickering all over his face in his nephew’s version of kisses. “I have missed you, my little  _ bróðursonur,”  _ Thor whispered to him. “I can scarcely believe how big you’ve grown!”

Jör gave a happy little wiggle and tightened his grip on Thor. “ _ It was very boring, and very lonely,” _ his voice was still so young, and Thor felt his eyes prickle and burn at the thought of his brother’s youngest swimming alone and scared through the dark waters of Midgard.  _ “But the mortals throw interesting stuff down. There’s many big ships to explore too! I like one that is under the ice… it has many interesting and old things to see.” _

Loki moved to lean his head against Thor’s shoulder, and Jör wrapped himself about the pair of them, hissing happily as his uncle and his mother ran their hands all over his scales.

“ _ Are we going to get Fen? And Hel? Where is Sleipnir?”  _ Thor chuckled at the rapid fire questions, and let the burning in his eyes take him over a moment. Loki’s eyes hadn’t stopped since his son had first poked his head out from the water, and Thor felt he was allowed a few tears as well.

“How would you feel about coming home, little jewel?” he asked Jör softly. Loki sniffed beside him, and Thor reached around to grip his hip and squeeze it comfortingly. ‘Little Jewel’ had been the very first thing he’d ever called Jörmungandr, as he’d looked exactly like a little jewel curled up in Thor’s palm.

“ _ Has King Odin changed his mind about us, Mama?” _ Jör asked excitedly.  _ “Are we to be a family again now?” _

Loki hid his face in the green scales looped about his neck and shuddered. Thor licked his lips and sighed.

“I am King of Asgard now, my little one. And I am the one who will bring your Mama’s family back together. Would you like that? To come and live in the palace as you always should have?”

_ “Oh yes!” _ Thor kissed the little head still rubbing along his face and petted at Loki’s hip.

“Come on then. Let’s take this one home to see Amma, and we’ll fetch the others.”

“Amma is waiting for us?” Jor cried excitedly. “Hel came and told me stories like she used to, but it isn’t the same. She doesn’t do the voices.”

“I’m sure your Amma will enjoy starting that tradition again, my little one,” Loki whispered to his son. He guided the serpent to wrap around his torso and Jor tucked his head beneath Loki’s chin. “Hold on, darling.”

The coils tightened around him as Thor lifted Gungnir and swept the blade through the air. A doorway opened and they glimpsed Yggdrasil’s branches beyond.

“Slip’s Way!” Jor cried. “Can I crawl on them, Mama?”

“Perhaps later, darling,” Loki said, stepping through and walking among the branches. Jor lifted his head and peered down over the edge and Loki resisted the urge to grab him and clutch him close. He was in no danger of falling.

They walked for a time, Thor following Loki’s steps carefully as Loki moved deliberately slow to allow his brother to study his footing. He would have held Thor’s hand if he had been able to pry his own from Jor’s scales, but he could not bring himself to release his hold on his son.

The path opened before them and Loki stepped from Yggdrasil’s branches to the floor of the throne room, and found more than Frigga there waiting.

“Heimdallr,” Thor said, as he stepped out behind Loki and closed the door behind them. “What brings you here?”

“Curiosity,” the Gatekeeper said. “I have never had cause to see the paths that you walk, my prince. The temptation was too great.”

Jor had returned his head to its place beneath Loki’s chin and his tongue was flicking as he carefully watched the Gatekeeper. Heimdallr, for his part, peered back for a moment, before he said, “I thought you’d be bigger.”

“I am  _ huge,”  _ Jor said, clearly insulted, and stretched his body up until his head rested five feet above Loki’s. He swivelled his head around, then called, “Look, Mama, I’m a submarine! Awooooga!”

There was a burst of laughter and Frigga stepped forward, her hand covering her mouth and tears in her eyes. “Amma!” Jor shouted.

“Hello, my little dragon,” Frigga said, and held out her arms as tears ran down her cheeks. “May your Amma have a hug?”

Jor shot into her arms so quickly that Loki stumbled, laughing wetly. Jormungandr wrapped around Frigga’s shoulders and rubbed his head against her cheek. “Missed you, Amma, and your  _ stories _ ! Hel doesn’t do the voices. Can you tell me the one of the clockwork dragon, Amma? It’s my favorite!”

“I would be happy to, darling.”

“Jormungandr,” Loki called, stepping forward. He brushed his fingers over his son’s collapsed fins and they rose into his touch. “Your uncle and I are going after your older brother now.”

“Fen?” The fins collapsed again. “Take something sharp with you, Mama. Gleipnir is still whole.”

Loki hissed like a snake at the hateful name of his son’s tether. He felt the crackling snowfall of Mjolnir at his side. “I shall, my sweet boy.” He kissed Jor’s head. “Be good for your Amma.”

“Yes, Mama.”

Loki turned and took Thor’s hand in his, but paused when he spotted the Gatekeeper. “Would you care to walk the branches with us, Heimdallr?” he asked. “I can get you to your post if you would prefer.”

Heimdallr offered him a quiet smile. “Perhaps another time, my prince. I believe I will remain here for now, in case there is need of me.” Meaning, of course, that Heimdallr feared that the less-pleased members of the court might attempt to take action while Thor and Loki were away.

“My thanks,” he said quietly, and opened a door. If Heimdallr saw danger enough that he chose to remain by the side of their mother, then swiftness was their best choice.

They walked quickly along the still shaking branches of Yggdrasil, Loki clutching Thor’s hand tightly, and flinching whenever Thor mistepped, or shifted too close to the edge. The tree was still unsteady as the Convergence passed, and he apologised quietly each time, and heard Loki’s sigh of relief when they stepped off the pathway and out onto the shore of a lake.

It was dark, the lake was still and the trees surrounding it seemed to be holding their breath. He fought down a shiver, but felt it as Loki shook.

“Is this the place, Loki?” He saw his brother give a single sharp nod, and sighed. “Very well.”

Though he wasn’t as trained in seidr as Loki - and never would be, King or not - even he could feel the way the very air around him seemed to pulse and shake as he stepped closer to the lake’s edge.

“Amsvartnir,” he muttered. “You will yield to me.” Gungnir was firm in his grasp and Thor gently let go Loki’s hand. “Wait here, little brother.”

Thor took a deep breath and stepped to the very edge of the lake. The oppressive feel of the magic surrounding the faint outline of the island of Lyngvi pressing against his skin like pulsating tendrils of damp, sticky algae.

“Disgusting,” Thor grimaced, and rolled his neck and shoulders around uncomfortably to try and shake the feeling loose. He shifted Gungnir to be gripped in both of his hands and raised the spear up. “I am Thor the Stormbringer, God of Thunder and King of Asgard,” he called out, his voice clear and steady. “Hear me and yield!” A vicious slash through the nauseating sensations in the air, and Thor felt as it trembled and weakened, but didn’t give.

“Very well,” he grit out through clenched teeth. “We do this  _ my _ way now, Amsvartnir. You will yield. All do.”

He stepped forward again, forcing his feet to stand in the very edge of the lake, ignoring the slick feeling of the water - more like oil than water - and raised Gungnir high above his head. He closed his eyes and turned his gaze inwards to the place inside of him where his storm rested, a constantly churning and roiling place.

Power, pure and untainted.

He pulled on it, on the lightning that was sparking and crackling and felt as it moved through him; like missing pieces slotting into place. Gungnir glowed a bright blue, almost white, and he waited until the spear felt as though it may shake apart in his hands before he sliced down, feeling as Odin’s magics dissipated like dew under the morning sun.

The entire lake erupted into violent waves, the trees shook and bent as an enormous gust of wind tore through area, and over it all came the monstrous howling of a wolf.

Thor grinned in triumph, his skin glowing to match Gungnir’s intensity and hollered back across the lake.

“Fenrisulfr! _Ástkæra bróðursonur minn_ _! _ Join us now!”

“He cannot, Thor,” Loki said quietly, stepping up beside his brother and putting a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet.”

“I do not understand, Loki. I have broken the magic Odin left, have I not?”

Loki sensed his brother trying to reach out with his own seidr and reach for any shields that may be left. He touched the back of Thor’s hand and gave his brother a smile. “You did, Thor. I had not expected…” His smile faltered and he turned away and stepped into the lake. “Come, Thor.”

Thor grabbed his hand, not allowing him to run, and Loki sighed but thread their fingers together. “Loki?”

Loki sighed. “The shields were not to keep Fen in, Thor. They were to keep  _ me _ out.”

Thor made a growling noise deep in his throat, not unlike his thunder. “What holds him, then?”

Loki tightened his grip on his brother’s hand and ignored how his hands shook. “Gleipnir,” he said, and would not say anything more, even when Thor asked.

They waded out into the water until it was up to their waists and then began to swim. There was a heavy fog in the air that blinded them, making Fenrisulfr’s howls echo strangely through the air, but Loki knew the way. He had flown over the island as a raven, trying to reach his son from above, and while he could not access Lyngvi even from high, he had mapped the area, determined to one day find a way to reach his wolf child.

And here they were. Finally, here they were.

He and Thor waded onto the shore of the island, dripping water from their clothes and their hair. Loki gave a negligent wave of his hand, drying them with barely a thought, as he looked around. There was an ache in his chest and his hands were shaking. It had been so long and he hadn’t been able to reach Fen, hadn’t known if his son thought he had willingly let him be taken.

“Fen…” He voice broke off and he cleared his throat. “Fenrisulfr?” He took a few steps further onto the island. “Baby?”

He heard Thor make a noise behind him and turned in fear, uncertain what it was he expected, only to see Thor standing there with his head tilted backward, his mouth slightly open in clear surprise. “Nephew, you have grown impressively large!” Thor cried in sudden delight, and Loki turned back around.

“Thank you, Uncle,” Fenrisulfr said, his voice deep and grumbling. He was massive. Far larger than Loki had ever expected. His head reached higher than the nearby trees. His eyes were the same bright gold that Loki remembered, filled with intelligence and a kind of  _ knowing _ that spoke of an old soul. “Hello, Mother,” he spoke quietly, lowering his head until it was even with Loki’s. His ears lowered slightly. “ _Viltu halda mér,_ mamma?”

Loki made a choking noise and lunged forward, wrapping his arms around his son’s muzzle and sinking his hands into the thick fur of his throat. “My baby,” Loki whispered, and buried his face in Fen’s fur. “My baby, I have missed you so.”

Fen made a keening sound and snuffled his nose against Loki’s chest. “Mama,” he whimpered. “Mama, you’re here.”

“I’m here, baby.”

They stayed like that for a while, Loki holding tightly to his son as Fen struggled to keep in control of his emotions. Always so serious, his wolf child. Loki did not even try to stem his own tears, and he could feel tears seeping into his tunic from Fen’s eyes as the massive wolf whimpered and whined intermittently.

Finally, Fenrisulfr pulled his head back and Loki reluctantly let him go. Rather than stand and lean over them, the wolf lowered himself to the ground. His eyes studied Loki for a long moment before turning to Thor. “You carry Gungnir, Uncle. Are you now King?”

“I am, Ástkæra bróðursonur minn. And we are here to bring you home.”

“Home,” Fen said softly, closing his eyes. His ears stood up straight and he looked at his mother. “What of Jorgumandr and Hel?”

“Jor is with your Amma,” Loki assured his son, brushing a hand across his muzzle. “And we will be going to get your sister next.”

“We will be going  _ now,”  _ Fenrisulfr saif, rising to his feet with a growl. “She will not remain there in the lonely dark for another moment. You should have gone for her first, Mother. I could have waited.”

“You have waited long enough, Fenrisulfr,” Loki said, reaching a hand out to his son. Fen made a sound of frustrated anger. “And Hel had much more free will to move than you.”

“I do not care. She is my little sister. You should have gotten her  _ first _ .”

Loki was abruptly reminded of Thor in one of his Protect Loki moods and struggled hard not to burst in either laughter or tears. He opened his mouth to tell his son that they would go and fetch Hel as soon as they had freed him when Hel stepped in herself.

**_“I am less a prisoner than any of my brothers,”_ ** she spoke from behind Loki, causing him to spin around.  **_“No matter what Slip might say.”_ **

“Little Hel,” Fen murmured, and bent his head forward. He did not step closer, however, and Loki looked around him to see that he was indeed at the end of his tether. A moment later, he felt cold rage fill him as he saw how very, very short that tether was.

**_“Hello, big brother,”_ ** Hel whispered, as she slipped closer and touched his nose with her hand.  **_“Mama and Uncle are bringing us all home and we are going to have a lovely reunion with Amma. Miss Cookie Kanil is making those strawberry cannolis that you love so much. You aren’t supposed to know that, though, so please act surprised.”_ **

“We are coming to get you  _ first,”  _ he growled at her.

**_“Yes, I know.”_ ** She patted him gently.  **_“Do not worry so, Fenrisulfr. Uncle promised we would all be together again before the sun has set. Now do stop acting like such a lazy old mutt and let Mama free your leg.”_ **

Fen let out a huge huff of breath. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Bossy.”

**_“I learned from the best!”_ ** she said cheerfully, and skipped over to Thor. He crouched down to be eye-level with her small body and she kissed him on the cheek.  **_“Be careful, Uncle,”_ ** she said, and touched her fingertips to the scars around his lips.  **_“It bites.”_ **

She vanished like smoke on the wind and Loki turned back to his son with a weary sigh. “Let us see Gleipnir, Fenrisulfr.”

Snorting loudly, the massive wolf rose to his full height and stepped away, out of the path so that they could see the chain that bound him. Loki heard Thor gasp behind him but he did not turn, not even as storm clouds filled the sky. He had eyes only for the snare.

He knew Thor would recognize the craftsmanship. It had been crafted by Brokki and Eitri, the same two dwarves that had created the wire with which they had sewn Loki’s lips together. Thor had painstakingly removed that wire from his lips and Loki knew that his brother would never forget the look of it, just as he would not.

Thunder cracked the sky and rain started to fall heavy in the lake around them. “I will skewer them both,” he snarled behind Loki.

“Later,” Loki murmured softly, glancing briefly at the curtain of water that poured down around them. Not a single drop fell upon the island. Even in his fury, Thor was making certain that Loki’s children would not suffer the cold.

He stepped over to his son’s leg. Gleipnir shone with an ethereal light, glinting like diamonds. It was far stronger than any precious stone that Loki had ever encountered, and only the magic that that _vámr_ , Eitri, had folded into the wire kept it from slicing through Fen’s leg entirely. Still, he could see how it dug into the fur. It must hurt terribly.

“You cannot break it, Mother.”

“I hope you do not think for one moment that I will be leaving this island without you.” His voice remained completely calm, but there was a frost within him growing still colder, and he looked forward to the moment he could bring it down upon the two dwarves who helped imprison his son in this place. With Odin finally sleeping and his brother on the throne, there would be no one to take action against his children when Loki finally made them pay their dues.

He reached out to grab the snare, only to jerk his hand back as it neatly sliced into the skin of his fingers. Fenrisulfr growled low and the thunder rolled heavy over their heads. Thor came storming up behind them.

“Shall I try and break it, brother?” He grasped the spear tightly in his hand, Gungnir crackling with lightning.

Loki glanced back at the spear. He had given it to the All-Father himself, purchased from the Sons of Ivaldi. It had ended up being one of the reasons his mouth had been sewn shut in front of all the court, but that did not lessen the spear’s value. It  _ never _ missed. It was called Gungnir - “Swaying One” - because it would curve around obstacles to strike at its intended target, rather than blunder through them, as Mjolnir had always been inclined in Thor’s hand.

Loki stepped away toward Fen’s head. “Try.”

Thor did try. Gungnir burned white with lightning as he brought the spear’s head down on Gleipnir, but the wire only sent sparks scattering about as it hummed with obvious power, almost like it was laughing at the attempt.

Fenrisulfr made a low whining sound. “Did I hurt you?” Thor demanded, looking at him in fear.

“No, Uncle,” the massive wolf assured him sadly. “I only had hoped you would succeed.” He laid down on the ground and lowered his head to his paws. “Could Amma come here, do you think, Mama? Would she come see me?”

“She won’t  _ need to _ , Fenrisulfr. You are leaving with us.”

The look that Fenrisulfr sent him, of absolute resignation, made something inside Loki shatter like ice. It was like a howling wind in his mind, tearing through him and ripping apart every ounce of restraint within him with sleet like swords and a frost so cold it sunk the world into an age of ice.

He came back to himself, heaving for breath, Mjolnir blazing so cold in his blue hand that the ground at his feet had turned to ice three feet in all directions around him. He had shifted forms, he saw, as he glimpsed his arms and saw they were blue. And Gleipnir, that horrendous, revolting snare, lay dull and harmless upon the ground in pieces.

Fenrisulfr was alternating between staring at him with wide eyes and an open mouth and looking at his own freed hind leg.

Loki looked down at Mjolnir in his hand and felt the dagger’s song ring almost smugly in his mind, icicles and cold starry nights and  _ freedom. _

“I guess it  _ was  _ a better weapon than Gungnir,” he muttered, and snorted a laugh.

* * *

Loki was  _ beautiful _ .

There was no other word to describe him as his seidr - as his  _ soul _ \- tore free from him in a flurry of ice and snow. It was like watching a flood move along an open plain - a steady wash of brilliant smoky-blue crept from his hands down his arms, up his neck and along every inch of him. The green eyes that Thor had always admired bled a vivid ruby red, glowing in the dark fog that still surrounded them. His hair flowed longer and the waves became more wild, small horns curving back from his head and glinting with gold erupted from above his temples, but Loki paid them no heed.

All along his skin, raised runes - like scars almost - were appearing, his nails lengthening and darkening into wicked black claws, teeth sharp and vicious behind the snarl that pulled his lips back.

He was a warrior in that moment. Fearsome, terrible and so very  _ beautiful _ .

Thor could only watch as Loki drew Mjolnir from his belt, the blade glinting and  _ growing _ with Loki’s power, ice spiralling down the hilt and up onto Loki’s arm as he stalked forward towards the vile chain holding his son to the ground.

He wanted to reach out, to pull his little brother back and free Fenrisulfr himself, to shake Loki until this terrible, wonderful side of him was hidden away again.

It was… unsettling to realise that this ferocious and powerful being was his baby brother.

His little Loki. His hjartsláttur and very reason for being.

He watched with awed eyes as Loki reached out and  _ froze  _ Gleipnir solid, before shattering it with a single strike from Mjolnir’s icy blade. Ruby eyes flashed in triumph as Loki stepped back, and his body shivered once all over, the scars and gold slowly fading. His hair shortened and the horns vanished back beneath his slowly paling skin. His arms were still that odd shade of blue as his eyes gradually faded back to their usual brilliant green.

Thor smirked as Loki shook his head a little, awareness coming back to him in between heaving gasps. Loki looked from his hands, to the shattered remains of  Gleipnir, and from Mjolnir’s glowing blade to Fenrisulfr’s shocked face.

He bit his lip to stifle a laugh as Loki snorted, “I guess it was a better weapon than Gungnir.”

Carefully, not wanting to spook his brother, Thor approached him, resting a gentle hand on an arm that was still fading back from blue. He could feel the deep, bone-biting chill of  Jotunheim ’s winter winds on Loki’s skin, but ignored it to embrace his brother.

“I am so very proud of you, Little Loki,” he whispered with a kiss to a still cool cheek.

Fenrisulfr stood and walked slowly over, the moment he moved further than the length of his tether had allowed a broken cry escaping him and he fell forwards to land heavily at his mother’s feet.

Thor let go of Loki and threw himself forwards to let Fenrisulfr’s head rest in his lap as Loki knelt beside him, running soothing fingers through matted, dirty fur.

“ _ Ástkæra bróðursonur minn _ , steady now,” Thor murmured. “Let us take you to your Amma, and your mother and I will go to collect Hel. You are in no shape to accompany us to Niflheim this day.”

He and Loki both ignored the irritated growling and grumbling, working together to lift Fenrisulfr to his feet, bracing his not-insignificant weight between them. Loki opened a door for them, and they limped slowly through it, keeping Loki’s son supported the entire way.

“Uncle, if you do not move, I fear I shall squash you flat,” Fenrisulfr said as he limped toward the exit that formed before them.

They could vaguely see the throne room beyond it, until Sleipnir’s head was suddenly thrust through the doorway and the stallion whinnied cheerfully. “Hurry it up, old man! I’m getting wrinkles in my flank waiting on you.”

“I am younger than you,” Fen growled, but he did speed up his movements. He stumbled as he stepped off the branches of Yggdrasil, but Sleipnir was there to brace him.

“Hello, little brother,” Sleipnir greeted softly, as he helped guide the massive wolf away from the doorway so Loki and Thor could exit unhindered. “Were there no bathtubs on Lyngvi or do you enjoy smelling like a trash heap?”

“Nice to see you too, Spiderlegs. Not all of us can sit on our ass getting their toenails painted. No wonder you’re so fat.”

“Fat?!” Sleipnir demanded, stomping a hoof on the floor. “These are deposits of awesomesauce, Scruffy.”

“Awesome _ sauce,”  _ Fen grumbled. “Are you planning on being the main course of dinner, Sleipnir? It has been quite some time since I’ve had horse.”

Sleipnir whinnied a laugh. “Careful, Fenrisulfr, or I might think you are serious.”

“Who says I’m not? You have so very many legs, dear brother. Surely you won’t miss one.”

Sleipnir slapped his tail against Fen’s side and snickered cheerfully. “You haven’t changed a bit, Fen. Except I think you might be a little taller.”

“A  _ little.  _ As water is only  _ a little wet.”  _ The massive wolf lifted his head as Sleipnir brought them to a halt and he looked upon the woman standing before him, her hair twisted up elaborately upon her head. “Amma,” he breathed, and lowered himself to the floor, “have you ever looked so lovely?”

“Not near so lovely as you, little moonchaser.”

Fen made a pained sound at the nickname, one that he had not heard in  _ so long.  _ “Amma,” he whispered, “Amma, may I… may I smell you, please?” His ears flicked back and downward in embarrassment, but Frigga only stepped closer, sinking to the floor and guiding his head into her lap.

“Dear one, all you like,” she murmured, and Fen pressed his nose against her dress and inhaled the familiar scent of his grandmother. He had lay like this often when he was small, pressed against her chest with her arms around him as she told them stories, weaving tales with her words as her seidr made the images dance around them. It was one of his favorite memories and one he had clung to in the lonely nights, when Hel could not remain with him any longer for the need to replenish her seidr.

“It is you,” he murmured softly, and closed his eyes. “You are just the same, my Amma.”

Frigga ran her fingers through the fur along his neck. “Sweet boy,” she murmured, as he slipped off to sleep. “Welcome home.”

She lifted her head and looked at her sons, standing there with their hands clasped tightly together. Loki’s attention did not waver from Fenrisulfr, but Thor’s had been drawn by an amusing sight. Not far from them, Heimdallr stood, Jormungandr wrapped around the curving horns of his helmet, his head hanging down over the front as he badgered the Gatekeeper with question after question about the universe as large.  _ “You see all, don’t you, Mister Gatekeeper? Well, what about  _ this _?” _

Frigga had laughed loudly at Heimdallr’s comically bemused expression. That had been shortly after Thor and Loki had left to go after Fenrisulfr. The questions had yet to stop.

“Go, my sons,” Frigga whispered to them. “We will be safe here.”

Thor nodded at his mother with a smile. Loki looked as though he had to force himself to leave the room, but he tightened his fingers around Thor’s and turned back toward his doorway.

“Mother,” Sleipnir called, before he could step through. Loki turned as Sleipnir came up to them. “I’ll be going with you.”

“Do you not wish to remain with your brothers, Sleipnir?” Thor asked, quietly so as not to wake Fenrisulfr.

Sleipnir looked at his uncle with an expression so filled with mischief that no one could ever doubt he was Loki’s child. “Right now, Uncle, you have a need. A need… for speed.”

“I feel as though there is a reference here I’m missing,” Thor admitted, and sighed when Sleipnir nearly  _ cried _ with laughter at his lost expression. “Loki?”

“ _ Darcy, _ ” his little brother growled. “One day! She had him for  _ one day _ .”

_ Ah _ . “'Tis a Midgardian thing, then?” Thor asked as they walked the branches of Yggdrasil carefully downwards to Niflheim. Loki nodded irritably, and Sleipnir whinnied, a high pitched thing of pure mischief from behind them. Thor looked over his shoulder, and shot his nephew a wink. “You shouldn’t tease your mother so,” he scolded with a grin. “He will go grey!”

“But he’ll look so  _ dignified, _ ” Sleipnir quipped back. Thor heard Loki mutter something under breath, the only word he could catch clearly being  _ ‘Darcy’ _ and then a slew of Asgardian curses. He chuckled to himself, and tightened his grip on his brother’s hand as Loki lead them to the exit.

Niflheim was dreary, dark and oppressive. Dark fog swirled around their feet and shadowy figures lurked just out of sight, darting in and out of the dim light.

“Stay close,” Loki murmured, and Thor squeezed his hand in understanding. It felt… almost wrong to speak aloud here, as though to do so would call the dead down upon them. Loki called his seidr to his hand, a steadily glowing ball of green light and called quietly to Hel.

**_“Hello Mama,”_ ** Hel’s quiet voice came from behind Thor’s shoulder.

(He would deny for the rest of eternity that he  _ squeaked _ . Sleipnir simply had an overactive imagination and remembered it wrong.)

“Hello my darling girl,” Loki said softly, drawing her in for a hug. She was a small child today, her hair swinging down past her hips in big loose curls, a brightly coloured dress with cartoon horses on its front. “You look beautiful.”

Hel smiled up at him and twirled her dress around her knees.  **_“I do, don’t I? I know why you’re all here.”_ ** She stepped back out of Loki’s arms and peered around his waist to wave at Sleipnir.  **_“Hello, big brother!”_ ** She gasped then, and darted around Loki to stand in front of Sleipnir, one of his rainbow painted hooves in her small, pale hands.  **_“Oh,”_ ** she breathed, turning to Thor with massive eyes.  **_“Uncle Thor! It’s a magical friendship pony!”_ **

Thor recalled their conversation on the icy grounds of Norway. “Aye little love! And now, 'tis not so boring, is it?” Thor grinned at her as she turned Sleipnir’s hoof this way and that, admiring the spiralling rainbow and the glitter that caught the light of Loki’s dim seidr ball.

**_“You cannot linger here,”_ ** she said suddenly and quietly.  **_“My realm is not meant for those whose souls still call above.”_ **

“We’re gonna take you home with us!” Sleipnir said cheerfully. “Ready to rock and roll?”

Thor felt confused again. Rock and roll was a term he remembered from Tony Stark. But… “What does loud Midgardian music have to do with this?” he asked, and immediately regretted it when he caught sight of the  _ joy _ on Sleipnir’s face. He held his hands up and shook his head, “No, no. Don’t answer that.”

**_“Do not call to her, Mother,_ ** ” Hel’s voice was sharp and loud in the near silence of Niflheim and Thor spun on his heel, to look at where she was looking. Loki’s seidr ball had drifted away, and so had Loki.  He stood at the edge of the ring of dim light and stared out into the dark with sad, hungry eyes.  **_“You cannot. The shadows care not for whom they devour. One soul is as any other here. Even I dare not to call out. I am… not above them,”_ ** she bit at her lip and moved to thread her tiny fingers through Loki’s trembling ones.  **_“Come mother. The more we linger, the more you will be tempted to step out. Even when your time comes, Niflheim will be closed to you.”_ **

Hel tugged on Loki’s hand, the dark purple of her seidr resting over his lips like a gag. Thor caught her eye as she pulled her Mother past him to climb onto Sleipnir’s back.

**_“I won’t let this place keep him_ ** ,” she hissed.  **_“He has hurt enough.”_ **

Thor nodded his agreement. “Aye, little love,” he said softly. “Let us take him, and you, home.”

**_“I liked your crown,”_ ** Hel commented as she pushed Loki up onto his son’s back.  **_“Although, I think I could make you one more lovely. I know where Odin hid the most wonderful gems. May I do so?”_ **

Thor’s heart felt as though it would burst from his chest. Hel had truly overcome all that Odin had thrust upon her tiny shoulders.

“You inspire such joy in my heart, little Hel.” Thor picked her up and held her tightly to his chest, pressing soft kisses over her face - flesh and skull alike. She was beautiful always in his eyes. “I thank you for all that you have done for me, and for all the guidance you have given me since I was felled. T’was… more than I was worthy of.”

Hel shook her head, and patted at Thor’s cheeks, her little hands coming away damp. When had he started to cry? Thor buried his face in her hair to hide the tears, and Hel hummed softly at him.

**_“Uncle Thor, you were always worthy of so much_ ** **more** **_than simply wielding Mjolnir. You’ve always been destined for so much more than flinging a hammer about.”_ **

Thor didn’t trust himself to speak, and instead simply snuffled his nose into Hel’s curls, ignoring her delighted giggles as his beard tickled her skin.

“Alright then,” he said after a moment, pulling his head back and kissing the tip of her tiny upturned nose. “Let us make our grand escape, hm?”

Hel nodded and allowed Thor to settle her between he and Loki on Sleipnir’s back.

**_“You’re going to have to run faster than you ever have brother,”_ ** she warned Sleipnir as he started trotting over to where the magic in Niflheim was weakest - the spot where they’d come in.  **_“As soon as you step through the door, all of Yggdrasil will shake and move. You must_ ** **run** **_, or we all will fall into the Void.”_ **

They all felt as Loki went deathly still at those words, and seemed to pull himself out of his melancholy. “Aye,” he said softly, voice hoarse and rough. “Allow me.” A wave of his elegant hands and the door opened, the branches of the Great Tree barely visible through the suddenly roiling fog, bony dark hands rising up from the ground to grasp at Sleipnir’s hooves and legs, pulling on his tail to make him stumble.

**_“It knows,”_ ** Hel whispered.  **_“RUN SLEIPNIR!”_ **

_ “I AM RUNNING!” _

Thor sighed to himself as they raced through the door, the spindly limbs grasping at their feet breaking apart and disintegrating into dust in the light of Yggdrasil’s branches. They were fleeing for their lives and still his nephew found the time to sass.

“'Tis like Tony Stark himself were here,” he mumbled and grinned when Loki reached back to pinch at his thigh, an insulted hiss on his lips.

“Hurry faster, Sleipnir,” Loki urged his son as the branches around them began to shift and shake, the entire Tree beginning to sway as though it were caught in a powerful gale.

Sleipnir navigated the twisting and shaking branches with ease, his hooves never missing a beat as they tore through the pathway back to Asgard.

“Now, Mother!” Sleipnir called over his shoulder, and Loki opened the doorway, the shimmering portal barely holding open long enough for them to tumble through. Yggdrasil gave a massive trembling  _ sigh _ and the doorway slammed closed.

“I’ve seen blind ballerina’s land more gracefully than that,” Fenrisulfr sniffed at them as they landed, his head still resting in Frigga’s lap.

“Do shut up, you overgrown fleabag,” Sleipnir wheezed as Thor and Loki rolled free of his back, Hel already on her feet and greeting Frigga.

Jörmungandr cackled from his place on Heimdallr’s helmet, before unravelling himself and quickly moving to wrap himself about Hel, covering her almost completely in his big, looping coils.

_ “Hello sister! You smell awful and taste like death! You’re so pretty! I love your dress. Can I wear it? I’ve missed you so terribly,” _ he hissed happily, flicking his tongue all over her face, his tail whipping back and forth.

“You’re acting like an over excited pup, Jör,” Fenrisulfr growled. “Move aside so I can see my baby sister.”

Jormungandr obediently slithered down from Hel’s body. He headed over to where Loki was sitting on the floor next to Sleipnir, who was lying on his side and heaving for breath. As he passed Fen, he called out, “She is cold, big brother.”

“I know how to fix that,” Fenrisulfr grumbled, and sat down in front of her. He peered down her at and she tilted her head back all the way to stare up at him. “You are much smaller, little one, than you have ever appeared to me.”

She raised her hands up. “Small’s best when I want hugs,” she said. “Means you can squish all of me tight.”

Fenrisulfr snorted and lay down, wrapping himself around her and flopping his tail over her so she was completely surrounded in fur. “Hugs are my specialty, little sister. Did you know?”

“Yes,” she said happily, burying her face in his fur. “I remembered.”

“I have wanted to hug you for so long,” Fen said, nosing at her hair. “When you came to me, beautiful but so very sad, I wanted to hold you tight and tell you that everything would be well, but you were so very far away.”

“I am here now, big brother. We are  _ all _ here, and we’re going to be a family again.”

“May I tell you a secret, my little loves?” Frigga asked as she knelt beside them. She kissed their heads. “We never stopped.”

The remainder of the day involved very little movement on the part of anyone present. Even Heimdallr, notorious for remaining at the Bifrost, did not leave the throne room or the royal family’s side.

Sleipnir eventually recovered his breath and made his way over to Fenrisulfr’s side. After ragging on his brother about smearing his greasy fur all over their little sister, flopped himself down on top of the massive wolf and let Hel play with his hooves as he told her all about his new friend Darcy. Jormungandr slithered over and, shrinking himself to the proper size, settled on top of Hel’s head like a crown and declared her the very prettiest pony queen, because of her dress.

Loki stared at his children, finally all together again, for a long time, before Thor pulled his brother to his feet and dragged him over to the crowd. Fenrisulfr’s massive form easily curled around the both of them and Loki reached out and held his daughter’s hand while Fenrisulfr dug his nose into his hair and huffed. Thor kept one arm about his brother’s waist, while Jormungandr twisted around his other and pretended to bite Thor while shrieking “M’blergh, it’s me!”

Frigga sat on the floor and leaned her back against Fen, reaching over him so Loki and Thor both could grip her hand in theirs. She smiled as she felt the thrumming hearts of both her children beating in time against her fingers.

Softly, she began to weave a story for them all, about two brothers who were bound together, hearts and soul, who loved each other so deeply they crossed impassable rifts to reach one another, and brought peace to all the worlds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story of the clockwork dragon that Jor mentions is based on the song The Girl and the Clockwork Dragon, by The Cog is Dead. I recommend checking it out. It's one of my favorites.
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
> Ástkæra bróðursonur minn! - My beloved brother's son  
> Viltu halda mér, mamma? - Will you hold me, mama?
> 
> And so ends _And Home Will Feel Like Home Again._ Thank you so much to everyone who joined us in this amazing ride. Trips and I had so much fun writing this fic. I'm glad we were able to share it with others who enjoyed it. 
> 
> If you're sad about the story ending, don't worry. There are multiple completed stories just waiting to be posted, so keep an eye out for the next collaborative MCU fic by Trips and Talky, and remember to follow us on tumblr.


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